


Shadows of the World

by starcrossed_writing



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, I adore you all, WW2, WWII, World War 2, but ty to the squad who read whilst it was still being uploaded, honestly get ready for the slow burn of your lives, ive deliberately not put the pairing bc i want to make you all sweat trying to work out what it is, pairing is up now bc it’s finished, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 76,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcrossed_writing/pseuds/starcrossed_writing
Summary: Having worked undercover across Europe for the majority of wartime, Juliette Chevalier has become used to living as a mere shadow of the world. Never staying in one place too long to be caught and never returning home, the only family she has known since 1939 has been the men she’s served alongside.However, when the tide of the war begins to turn and the need for brute force becomes more than ever before, Juliette finds herself thrust among the ranks of a group of brash American paratroopers, and suddenly she has to learn how to live in the light again. One can never remain a shadow forever.
Relationships: Eugene Roe x Original Female Character, Eugene Roe/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 125
Kudos: 48





	1. Half Sick of Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Epigraph: "Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of a true, wise friend called Piggy." - William Golding, Lord of the Flies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'I am half sick of shadows,' said the Lady of Shalott." - Alfred, Lord Tennyson, The Lady of Shalott

Juliette Chevalier was good at her job, for both better and worse. It was a job she was very proud to be in possession of, and indeed had worked very hard to attain, but exhausting in the way that encompassed you entirely, body and soul. Moreover, it was relentless in making sure she never quite recovered from one job before being sent out again on the next.

She was good at her job, and thus was picked time and again to do the dirty work, the jobs that simply couldn't be afforded to be messed up.

To be frank, she was quite tired of being good at her job, and if the stakes hadn't been quite so high might have considered beginning to be intentionally bad at it. But they were, and she knew she never would; she was proud of her work and the trust that was placed in her to allow her to do it, and she'd do it as they expected her to: without complaint, and as cleanly as she could manage.

And yet, the lethargy that accompanied being moved to yet another place was relentless, each day henceforth becoming a waiting game for her next set of orders.

"How long do we gather before this big invasion then?" inquired the man beside Juliette, his shoulder crushing her against the side of the truck for a moment as they turned a corner.

Thomas looked contemplative as he looked between the faces of his companions. He was always eager to know the fine print and was often asking it of the others long before he knew they'd ever know it. To the blank faces he was met with he merely shrugged, tugging at his shirt collar in the hopes of relieving some of the tightness.

"Alex, heard anything yet?" he continued to probe, now fingering his freshly pressed trousers. Juliette rolled her eyes, knowing the answer just as well as he did, but remained silent beside him.

"You know I haven't," replied Alexis, bemused and not sparing Thomas a glance as he continued to watch the English countryside pass beside him through the limited light the moon offered.

"If it's as big as the whispers are saying then I'd reckon a couple of months at least," William chimed in from his position opposite Juliette. He was fiddling with a radio that perched precariously on his lap, and indeed was always fiddling with something, before he glanced up and offered Thomas half a shrug.

"If they've actually got the yanks in on it then it'll definitely be a while," agreed Martin from Thomas' other side. "That lot are so green I wouldn't be surprised if they're still learning how to piss in their ODs."

Juliette snorted at this, the smirk that accompanied her amusement lingering for moments after. The group of Brits definitely resented the Americans a bit for their perceived lack of punctuality where the war was concerned, but who could blame them? It was a conflict that had burdened them since 1939, and only now were they seeing the Americans acknowledge that there was a war going on at all. Where the Brits were concerned, the Americans had a lot of time to make up for, and a lot of work to do.

"What do you think, Jules?"

Juliette glanced at Thomas beside her and tried to muster her very best blank stare. "I don't know, Tom. Would you like me to ask Montgomery for you?"

The fair-haired man chuckled and turned his eyes to watch the passing scenery through the darkness. "Very much so, would you mind?" he replied dryly, to which Juliette smirked and began idly fiddling with a loose thread on her dress.

As the patchwork of fields and forests lining the roads they drove began to morph into small cottages, first sparse and eventually tightly packed, Alexis deemed it time to address the group.

"Sound off on names."

"Warren Sterling," began Martin.

"Henry Jameson," said Thomas.

"Penelope Williams," followed Juliette.

"James Evans," added William.

"Stephen Alby," finished Alexis, looking between the others with a satisfied nod. "Remember to avoid interacting as a group right away, we don't need any extra unwanted attention," he added, to which the group groaned.

"Alex, don't you trust that we know as much by now?" Juliette teased with a good-natured roll of her eyes.

"How many jobs will it take before you trust that we know what we're doing?" added William with a laugh.

"I'm just making sure," Alexis defended. "I can never be too safe with you lot. You do so seem to love venturing off-script."

"Only for the good of the operation!"

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you, Juliette. God knows you're the worst for it."

"Excuse me! I only ever do it when -"

"Would you look at that? We seem to have arrived!" cut in Martin with enough uncharacteristic enthusiasm Juliette could tell he only wanted to annoy her. It worked.

"Hello, Aldbourne!" Thomas remarked as quietly as he was able, getting off of the back of the truck and looking around with great interest.

When Juliette followed she took in her surroundings with a carefully trained analytic eye. In the early hours of the morning the small countryside village was still and silent, the only sounds being the soft hum of the engine of the truck she'd just emerged from. She knew, of course, this would be quite the opposite come daytime, what with the presence of some American army regiment or other, but at the present time was content to merely take in her quiet surroundings.

When Alexis handed her her luggage, having gotten off last, she thanked him quietly and watched as the truck drove away. Aldbourne was a small village by the looks of things, and finding her way around didn't look like it would prove to be much of a problem.

"Let's go then," announced Alexis in a pitched whisper, leading the rest of the group to the house right on the outskirts of the town that had been organised for them to stay in. It was already empty, and had been for a while, so they wouldn't have to explain themselves to any host families.

As Juliette followed Alexis with Thomas beside her, Martin and William trailing behind, she hoped rather than considered that perhaps their superiors would take mercy on them for a while as they awaited this big invasion of Europe. Perhaps they'd be allowed to stay in Aldbourne and pretend, even if just for a little while, that there wasn't a war going on and that they weren't right in the thick of it.

When they eventually reached the front door of their temporary new home, Thomas shot Juliette a pleased smile, which just made her hope for a reprieve even more. All they needed was a break.


	2. Those Unheard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter." - John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn

Bright and early the following morning Juliette ventured down the stairs of the house she'd barely taken a single glance at the previous night. Waking up with the sun was a habit she thought she'd never be able to break completely, but she didn't altogether mind so much. There was something about the early morning sunshine that made everything feel like it was going to be okay, and that feeling was far too rare to pass up these days.

The living room of the house she was staying in was cosy and quintessentially British; it put an ache in her chest and reminded her all too sharply of home. Juliette pushed the thought to the back of her mind as soon as it had registered. Home wasn't an option, because it wasn't safe until the war was over. However, even as she dutifully pushed all nostalgia to the back of her mind, the painful ache lingered as she crossed into the kitchen.

The kitchen was very much what she'd expected as well, small in itself but it extended into a larger open space that housed a wooden dining table. To be spending more than three days in one place was such a rarity even just looking at the place Juliette knew it would come to feel like home soon enough.

Preparing a small breakfast from the food that had already been delivered ahead of their arrival, Juliette ate quickly before heading back into the living room only to find Thomas seated on the sofa reading something.

"Alex not back yet?" she asked into the silence, making Thomas jolt in his seat and press a hand against his thumping heart.

"Jesus bloody -!"

Juliette only laughed.

When Thomas replied in the negative to her question she hummed her understanding. It was customary for Alexis to be the first to venture out of their accommodation in order to scout out their surroundings. In order to fit in appropriately they needed a basic idea of the order of things and who to watch out for, and as their commanding officer that job generally fell on Alexis' shoulders.

"I heard him leave a couple of hours ago, so I can't imagine what's taking him so long," Thomas commented. "He's scouting out a British countryside village as though we're still in Nazi-occupied Paris."

"He's wary of the Americans," Juliette replied, shrugging as she sat on the armchair placed directly to the left of the sofa, tucked up against the wall. "They're bound to be raucous and overexcited. He just wants to make sure we can stay out of their way enough that they don't arouse suspicion in us."

"It's not like they'd have the sufficient brain power to guess what we're here for anyway," Thomas replied with a smirk, to which Juliette giggled.

"Well, you know Alex. One step in front of the game is never quite enough. That's why he's the best."

A silence fell over the pair in which only the sound of the clock ticking away obnoxiously on the wall opposite them could be heard. Juliette could feel the fair-haired man's eyes on her and shot him a look when she got irritated by his gaze, which only made him chuckle.

"Do you ever wish you'd stayed home instead?"

"What do you mean?" she inquired.

"You know, when you got the first letter. Do you ever wish you'd just said 'no' and spent the war as a nurse or something?" Thomas asked the question with the genuine intrigue that accompanied knowing someone for a long time but never having thought to ask a particular question. He found he couldn't fathom an answer despite how well he knew the girl, and watched her closely as she considered his question.

"And risk missing out on all of our adventures? Never," Juliette replied nonchalantly, trying for a joking tone that fell somewhat flat. In all honestly she wasn't entirely sure. She tried not to think about the what ifs, and definitely sought deliberately not to think too much about the past either. It made things easier that way.

She sighed as her smile faltered, feeling as though she owed her friend an honest answer. "I don't know. I'm proud of what I do and of how much I can help, but every time we get sent on another job another part of me goes numb. But whilst a more bulk-standard wartime career would definitely be easier I think I'd always wonder 'what if'. And I couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that something big and important had been asked of me in our country's hour of greatest need and I'd denied them my help. How could a person live with that?"

Thomas nodded, his eyes gentle as they watched her. He supposed he hadn't thought of it that way.

"Do you ever wish you'd just been a solider?" Juliette asked him in turn, to which he smiled ruefully.

"Sometimes." He paused, contemplating what his life might have been like if he had enlisted as all the boys he went to school with had. "Sometimes I wonder why they chose me in the first place. I think a lot about all the other code breakers who didn't train upwards and wonder whether they wish they'd been picked instead of me. Sometimes I think it'd have been better if I stayed with them." He paused, considering. "But I want to help. And they didn't ask any of the others, they asked me, so it was something I had to do."

"You'd never have met me if you hadn't been a code breaker," Juliette acknowledged with a soft, almost teasing smile.

"That decides it then. I do wish I'd been a soldier instead." At this Juliette protested indignantly and he laughed. "Nah, someone needs to take care of you in the field when you decide to play the hero and run off wherever."

"You get in a car with a Nazi one time," she joked, erupting into giggles when Thomas shot her an unimpressed look.

"Don't even joke about that. It's not funny." Though contrary to what he was saying, he was laughing along with her.

In the midst of their giggles they heard the front door open and then close, and then the door to the porch do the same, right before Alexis entered the living room. He looked between them with a small smile tugging at his lips before removing his coat and draping it over the back of the sofa.

"How're we looking?" Thomas inquired, watching the stoic man as he came to stand before both of them, hands tucking themselves into his pockets.

"There's quite a few locals so we should blend in just fine. A few servicemen on break from the war, and presumably a few men who weren't allowed to enlist for some reason or other. And above all else, lots and lots of Americans."

"How many is 'lots and lots?'" asked Juliette, whilst Thomas looked contemplative.

"An entire company. They're paratroopers - 101st Airborne, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 2nd Battalion, Company E. Supposedly, they're one of the best American units around, though they haven't seen any combat yet. My guess is they're also going to be sent out on the France invasion."

"An entire company. That's - what? - a hundred and fifty men? Give or take?" Thomas spoke up, to which Alexis nodded.

"From what I can gather they train quite frequently in the surrounding fields and woods, but spend most of their time in and around the village. Their CO is a man named Captain Hebert Sobel, who is, by the looks of things, despised unanimously among officers and enlisted alike. His reputation precedes him as being arrogant, argumentative, and obnoxious so I'd steer clear of him wherever possible. I'll point him out to you at some point so you know who I mean. Have William and Martin gotten up yet?"

Juliette and Thomas both shook their heads.

"Right," Alexis went on, "you two can head out and get acquainted. I'll fill the others in when they eventually surface."

"Yes, sir," Thomas grinned as Juliette jumped to her feet, eager to see the village in the light of day.

"Remember to stay separate!" Alexis called after them to which Juliette rolled her eyes.

"Don't you trust us, Alex?" she teased, turning back and placing a hand on her hip with a quirked eyebrow.

"Only as far as I can throw you," he drawled, which earned a short laugh from both Juliette and Thomas.

With that, Juliette stepped out onto the cobblestone road in their secluded corner of Aldbourne, eager to see for herself what she was dealing with, especially where the Americans were concerned.


	3. Lord What Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" - William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Once outside, Juliette let Thomas go on ahead first, content to merely sit on the doorstep and take in the morning sunshine. As she gazed across the seemingly endless field in front of her and focussed on the feeling of the September breeze on her bare arms she contemplated going back inside to get a coat, and then smiled at the mundanity of her current predicament in comparison to her problems of only a few days before.

She only hoped the peace would last.

After what could have been anything from fifteen minutes to half an hour Juliette stood up from the doorstep and smiled into the sunlight, setting off into the inner parts of Aldbourne. She forwent a jacket in favour of feeling the sunlight on her skin, and wondered mindlessly what Thomas was doing at that moment. Flirting with whoever he could find, no doubt.

Grinning to herself at the thought, Juliette wandered into the centre of the village, shooting shy smiles at the people she made eye contact with and even engaging in a polite, though brief, conversation with one elderly woman who complimented the colour of her dress.

Juliette beamed at that; yellow had always been her favourite. She had once decided, rather naïvely she'd easily admit now, that life could never be too terrible if there was a splash of yellow about. Whilst that philosophy had long since withered away in the wake of too many difficult experiences, she quietly hoped it might brighten someone else's day at the very least.

After passing a tailor's, a baker's, and noticing a post office across the road, Juliette paused to fully take in the bustling activity around her. Whilst she had predicted that Aldbourne would be alive with activity due to its paratrooper population, she hadn't imagined there being nearly so many locals. She thought it was rather nice.

At least it would be easier to fit in if not everyone knew each other.

Turning back to the direction she was heading once more, Juliette took a single step forwards before colliding into someone who most certainly hadn't been there a second earlier. About a dozen packages covered in brown paper crashed to the floor, and a muttered, "Shit!" as well as a flash of khaki told her she'd just bumped into one of the very people she sought to avoid.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself, crouching to retrieve some of the dropped packages.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I should've looked where I was going," the man brushed her away, bending as well and desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the brunette girl's face as she tried to beat him in picking up as many packages as possible.

Successful in her silent competition, Juliette rose to her feet and handed the packages back to the man, who had also stood back up. "Well, I'm sorry all the same."

The man grinned when their eyes met; he had a charming, though genuine smile, but a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, I haven't seen you around here before. Why is that?"

Juliette internally rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you have."

"If I had, miss, I'd remember it, believe me." And there it was. Boys never really could seem to help themselves.

This time, Juliette actually did roll her eyes, but she wore a smile as well to let him know that it was good-natured. "Yeah, okay."

Much to her surprise, the man laughed. "What? Heard better?"

Juliette grinned. He was fun. "Oh, infinitely. That was an embarrassing effort, really, if I'm to be entirely honest."

"Damn, I'm crushed."

"I'm sure."

The man smiled his charming smile again. "I'm Floyd, miss. It's great to meet you."

"Ah, an improvement! Lead with that next time," she teased. "I'm Penelope." Going by a fake name would never stop being strange, but at least she'd long since grown out of nearly slipping up every time she was given a new one.

"Are you a Penny or just Penelope?" he wondered.

Juliette's answer came before she even had to consider it, "I'm a Penny."

"Thought so." Floyd nodded wisely, as if to prove that this was somewhat of an area of expertise for him.

"Tab! Have you got the laundr- oh," a voice drew Floyd's attention over Juliette's shoulder to somewhere over the road, and Juliette internally groaned. No doubt this was another yank.

"Hello, miss," a voice began from beside her and she fought so desperately not to groan aloud. She had had one main goal with her outing and that was to expressly avoid the Americans, and somehow she'd found herself making the acquaintance of two. "Tab, you gonna introduce us?"

"Penny, this is Malarkey -"

"Don, actually, miss -"

"Hey, Malark. Don't ask me to introduce you and then interrupt me."

"Well, Christ, I -"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Don," Juliette interjected, offering him a sweet smile as she looked up into his face.

Don smiled kindly back at her and told her the pleasure was all his. He had a gentle look about him, but something about his posture spelled trouble.

"I haven't seen you around before," Don began, and Juliette shot Floyd a pointed look to which he merely shrugged and laughed. "Are you new here or something?"

"I was away visiting family," she replied. "One of my cousins was injured in the service."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Don replied, and she smiled softly.

"Thank you."

"What branch of the service is he in?" Floyd asked, and if Juliette didn't know any better she might have even believed he was genuinely curious.

"RAF," she told them, then laughed at their blank expressions. "The Royal Air Force."

"Oh! A pilot, huh?" Don replied, a beaming smile on his face. "Did he serve in the Battle of Britain?"

"Every British pilot in action at the time did, so yes. You know, the war would've been lost entirely if we'd lost the Battle of Britain."

"Good thing you didn't lose then," Floyd replied, and she laughed.

"Certainly is."

"We're paratroopers ourselves," Don added, and Juliette stifled a grin when the pair of them started to almost subconsciously puff out their chests. They were obviously very proud of that fact.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" she asked him.

A dumbfounded expression crossed the ginger man's face. "What do you mean?"

"I just wonder what on earth prompts someone to sign up to jump out of aeroplanes is all," Juliette clarified, fighting with all her might to keep her smug smile at bay.

"Well," began Don, "the paratroopers are said to be the best, miss. I wanted to fight among the best."

"The fifty dollars a week doesn't hurt much either," added Floyd, to which both Juliette and Don laughed.

In her periphery Juliette noticed Thomas wander into their vicinity and knew she would have to move on. Regardless, Alexis would be expecting them both back soon so that William and Martin could go out themselves, so she turned back to Floyd and announced, "Well, I should be getting on. Terribly sorry, once again, for bumping into you."

"Nah, it was the best thing that's happened to me all week," the man replied with a cheeky grin, to which Juliette rolled her eyes exasperatedly and laughed.

"Your life must be truly riveting," she drawled. When they both laughed she shot them a final grin before turning on her heel and making her way back down the road again.

The pair of paratroopers watched her go in silence before Don turned to look at Floyd, whose eyes were still locked on Juliette, and sighed.

"She'll break your heart, Tab," he warned him, shaking his head in dismissal before watching the English girl retreat once more.

Floyd scoffed. "Nah."

Don rolled his eyes. "I'm telling you right now she won't fall for your usual act."

Floyd turned back to his friend and nudged him lightly with his elbow. "You just want me out of the way so you can have her to yourself."

Don shook his head but chuckled lightly. "Take my advice or leave it, Tab." With that, he tapped his friend twice on the shoulder before starting off back to where the enlisted men of the company were staying, carrying all of the post he'd been sent to retrieve and trusting Floyd was following him with the laundry.

Don shook his head slightly with a grin tugging at his lips; that girl would walk all over Floyd and his usual habits, and he couldn't wait to see it.


	4. My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My stars shine darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours." - William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

When Juliette returned to the house, Alexis had a message waiting for her. The small telegram was labelled simply with Alexis' code name, the typewritten script concealing the author, though she knew as well as he did who it would be from.

She sat on the sofa as she slid the slip of paper out of its casing and sighed once she had read the message three times over, conscious of Alexis' eyes on her.

_Sunshine to be expected. A nightingale to fly overhead.  
\- S21_

They were being sent information for yet another mission. They hadn't even been in Aldbourne for a full day and already they were being warned they would soon be moving out again.

Juliette looked up and found Alexis watching her; initially his expression was guarded, but when she held his gaze it melted into the melancholy that she thought may have been reflected on her own face.

"'A nightingale to fly overhead'," she read aloud the last sentence, puzzled. "Are they wanting me to pick it up?" she wondered, referring to the intel drop. It would be coming on the 21st of September, the following day, so she wondered why Alexis was showing her this; generally he'd pick up the intel and then tell them about the mission - she'd never seen the telegram that told him about the intel drop before. She could only theorise that it had something to do with the part that mentioned her code name.

Alexis sighed and came to sit beside her on the sofa. He paused, watching her for a moment before tearing his eyes away and choosing to watch the clock that punctuated the wall in front of them instead. It hung delicately above the dark brick fireplace and ticked loudly, as if to remind them of the importance of time where they were concerned. In their line of work, time was of the essence: if you were told someone had to be assassinated, they had to be assassinated immediately; if you were told fake intel had to be planted, it had to be planted right that second. Innocent and unsuspecting lives would be, and indeed had been, lost when time was wasted. It was a cruel thing, time, and the loud ticking of the clock on the wall only served as a reminder that they were running out of it.

"This next mission is yours," Alexis finally spoke. "That's why they want you to retrieve the intel. And I want you to go over it before any of the others because you're going to be going in alone."

"What about Tom?" she asked, dumbfounded. "And what about you?" Whilst her and Thomas often worked in the field together - they had trained together and were the two undercover specialists on the team - Alexis was her CO and was always not far behind as support. He was their tactician but also their leader, and he led from the front as much as he could without going undercover himself.

"The code means they want you to go alone. That's all I can gather from it." He was at least polite enough to appear guilty. Alexis' heart tightened at the look that passed over Juliette's face before she quickly schooled her features once more.

His hand twitched in his lap as he contemplated reaching out to her but quickly disregarded the thought; he wasn't sure she would appreciate it. He glanced back up at her face to find her eyes settled firmly on the floor, deep in thought. He knew she must be scared - he was scared for her at the thought of sending her in entirely without back up. He had wanted a break for her so badly, but it was not to be.

"I'll send William with you," he spoke with a certainty he didn't possess, surprising himself with the words he hadn't processed before blurting out. "To make sure you keep in contact with HQ," he added by way of explanation. As soon as the words had left his mouth he knew he shouldn't have said them, but he simply couldn't stand the thought of sending her in entirely alone. Still, until they had the actual mission details he couldn't make calls like that and he knew it. Recklessness was never a quality he possessed in his leadership, but he worried about his team more than he cared to admit. It was a side effect of working so closely and for so long; they were bonded by all they'd seen and done together. They were the only family each other had known in wartime.

"Well, we'll see what the brief says first," Juliette reasoned carefully. "The nature of the mission might dictate that only one of us really can go."

She was right and he knew it, but the man didn't reply.

"Don't worry about it too much," he resolved to say instead. He could practically see the younger girl locking her anxieties away for the time being and knew his words were redundant but offered them regardless, perhaps speaking more to himself than to her. "They wouldn't be sending you if they didn't think you could do it."

Juliette forced herself to muster a smile for him. The intentions behind his words were good but they both knew that being capable of completing a mission was not the only reason spies were ever separated from teams and sent out alone. Sometimes they were sent because they were the most expendable; sometimes people simply had to be sent on missions they knew they wouldn't return from. It was something all of them had had to agree to before beginning their training, but she felt as though she was having to confront the idea anew as she sat there wondering what exactly this mission would entail.

"Are you willing to die for your cause?" she had been asked all those years ago, and she had replied in the affirmative with so much certainty she would have just about done it right then and there had they asked it of her.

Now, having seen so much and having sacrificed so much, she knew she was still willing, but her chest ached at all she'd be leaving behind. There was something sobering about the difference between being asked and being told; she was fearless back then because she knew she wouldn't have to do it yet. Now, and not for the first time, she was staring death in the face, but this time she'd have to confront him alone.


	5. Sweet Heavens Endure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Let the sweet heavens endure,  
> Not close and darken above me  
> Before I am quite quite sure  
> That there is one to love me;  
> Then let come what come may  
> To a life that has been so sad,  
> I shall have had my day."  
> \- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Maud

The following day, bright and early, Juliette left the house, closing the door behind her quietly so as not to wake any of the others, and made her way through the relatively quiet village towards the post office. On her way there she was content in the knowledge that the Americans would be doing PT (Alexis had already managed to gather some idea of what their daily routine was and used it to predict when they were least likely to be out and about). She shouldn't have to interact with any of them for a bit, at least.

Walking in she greeted the man on duty with a smile and bid him good morning, offering him her fake name knowing that this was who the intel would be addressed to.

As he bustled about in search of the letter addressed to Penelope Williams she thought hard on this new persona. Who was Penelope Williams? Juliette hadn't really decided. She had initially wanted her to be cold and aloof in order to ward off any flirty soldiers, but their eyes had been too kind, their words too naïve. She had wanted Penelope Williams to be as hardened and withdrawn as she had often tried to be, but she found it incredibly difficult to treat people with anything other than the politeness she had been raised with. She hoped that in that, at least, her mother would be proud of her, though her mother would never know of it.

She knew she would have disappointed her mother in a million different ways in all the things she'd done. She hoped that perhaps treating people with kindness would make up for it a little bit, and maybe one of these days she'd be shown a little kindness in return. Surely at some point she'd have to get lucky.

"Ah! Here it is. Penelope Williams." The man handed her what was more akin to a package than a letter over the desk and offered her a nod and a small smile. "Got a boy out there fighting for you?" the man wondered, and she smiled softly.

"My brother," she replied, and the elderly man nodded his understanding.

"Well, I hope he's well, miss," he told her kindly and she gave him a bright smile.

"Thank you, sir. Do you have anyone fighting for you?" She shouldn't have asked, really, but his kind face looked somewhat sad. She could tell he was missing someone terribly.

"My son-in-law. And my daughter is a nurse. She couldn't bear to let him go alone." He gave a small, sad sort of laugh as a mixture of pride and sorrow swam in his eyes.

Juliette smiled a more genuine, gentle smile this time, tilting her head as she gazed across the desk at the old man. "They must be very in love."

He nodded and laughed. "If I could've handpicked a man for my daughter to marry it would've been him. Her entire world has hung on him since the day they met, and he takes care to make it the most beautiful and happy world he can. It brings me peace to know that wherever they are, at least they're together."

Juliette couldn't bear to tell him that nurses and soldiers often got separated in their deployment process; the mixture of agony and hope that had spread across his face was almost too much to take.

"Then they are very lucky," the younger girl said instead, speaking so softly she wondered whether he'd heard her at all. But then a warm smile drew up his face again, and all traces of melancholy were gone almost as smoothly as they had appeared.

"You'll find it too, someday. It comes when you're not looking for it, and often in places you'd least expect to find it. But when it comes, it will be worth the wait."

Juliette smiled at the man's wisdom. His clear passion for life and all of the softer things in it made her want to believe him. After bidding him goodbye and exiting the post office she sent a little prayer up for the man's daughter and son-in-law, asking that they'd make it through the war unscathed and return to him as in love as ever. She knew that war was not and had never been kind, especially not to her, but she thought that maybe, if she hoped for it genuinely and selflessly enough, it would be to those who deserved it.

She knew she did not deserve it. She tried to make her peace with that.

She passed a few of the American paratroopers (officers, by the looks of their uniforms) on her way back to the house and nodded greetings to a few locals she had seen the previous day, trying to keep her head down for the most part to avoid any unnecessary interactions.

Meanwhile, the old man's hopeful face and kind words haunted her because they filled her with a hope she knew she had no right to have. The package burned in her hands. She couldn't think on a life beyond the war because it was unlikely such a life would ever exist for her. She knew this and had known it ever since agreeing to train in espionage, but it ached uniquely every time she let herself think of it. She imagined the look on the face of a younger version of herself if she told her she'd never fall in love, never get married, and never grow old with someone she loved unconditionally.

She tried to reassure herself that even though she hadn't become who she thought she'd be, that was okay. In some ways she was more than she ever could have imagined she would be. Of course, she fell short in a million different ways, and her life was not the stuff of the fairytales or novels she used to adore her mother reading to her as a child, but her life was important, for now at least. Her work was important, and she was proud of it. Against all odds, she was proud of herself, even though she despised herself in equal measure.

Returning back to the house she nodded once at Alexis when he saw her emerge from the porch, his eyebrows furrowed in thought before he nodded back to her. She ascended the stairs and shut her bedroom door behind her.

Her mother's voice, or what she could remember of it, rang in her ears as she tried to tear open the package as carefully as she was able, only partly noticing the stamp that had once fascinated her for its power to keep unwanted attention away.

_"Life is tough, my darling, but so are you."_

She knew this, at least, to be true.


	6. Who Said Anything About Safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.'  
> [...] 'Safe?' said Mr Beaver, 'Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good.'" - C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

The Parisian sky was bleeding a deep purple over the yellow of day, which was fighting the invasion but losing its spirit with every tick of the clock. Juliette watched in silence, attempting to track the progression of the embattled sky but getting lost in thought too often to properly trace the slow change of colour. Paris was pretty by day and beautiful by evening, but night was coming, and not with the elegance she had always associated with the 'City of Love', but with the threat of chaos.

The hotel room she had been told to sneak into was modest and somewhat empty - a side effect, she supposed, of the lack of tourism that accompanied not only a war in Europe but an invasion of Nazis. There was no real need to maintain the smaller, less grand of hotels when the Nazis would never glance their way a second time let alone consider using them, and tourists certainly weren't queuing up outside the strict boarders of the city to stay under the watchful gaze of the Germans. Juliette could hardly blame them; the older, higher up Nazis were always unsettling, something malicious lurking in their gaze even when they didn't suspect you of dissidence. And when they did, you knew you were in real trouble. That memory in particular was one Juliette still, even nine months later, couldn't properly stomach.

The small clock on the bedside table ticked away another minute and Juliette sighed, turning from the window to return to her seat at the dressing table. She was hasty to get the mission over with, but timing was critical here, even more so than it ever had been before. Working alone meant there was no room for error. She had to leave her room at precisely the right moment, enter the venue at precisely the right moment, and slip out at precisely the right moment to ensure she was able to get out of Paris before she was caught and link up with William.

Juliette took small comfort in knowing that at least one member of her team was in the same country as her, even though he was put up just outside the city on account of not having the necessary forged paperwork to get in (for all intents and purposes, William was still back in Aldbourne, but Alexis hadn't been able to bear sending Juliette completely alone). The Nazis were stricter about Paris than they were about anywhere else.

At least, she decided, she was used to Paris. Her and her team had been operating out of Paris almost since it was first occupied by the Germans. Of course, they had been moved across Europe - in the early years of the war they couldn't seem to train spies fast enough, so they had been spread rather thin and dropped across seemingly every European country she could name - but they were always returned to Paris at some point or other. Indeed, it was Paris they had just left before finding themselves in Aldbourne.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Juliette pulled on her most winning smile, just like she had been taught in training all those years ago. She had been trained as an undercover specialist because she appeared unsuspicious, in every sense of the word. She had big brown eyes that drew you in and a smile that made you want to trust her. Her slender form made her physically unimposing, and those fluttering eyelashes had been the downfall of many an unsuspecting Nazi. She was beautiful in that angelic way, all kind eyes and soft, lingering gazes. Beautiful in the way that made your heart ache. She was no seductress and she knew it, had even been told so in training, but that didn't mean that she couldn't manipulate her femininity to her advantage. Her beauty made people trust that she was as pretty inside as she was outside, and that was their weakness. That was the pressure point she could press and use to bring them to their knees every time. It always worked a charm.

Juliette forewent the red lipstick she would usually adorn for such a soirée and instead applied a soft pink, really playing up the softness she knew would disarm her target. She didn't need him to want to get her into bed, she needed him to want to follow anywhere she led, even unknowing of why he was following her in the first place. He had to not want much out of their interaction, so that she wouldn't have to give it to him. This operation was different to the ones she'd done before, where she would get them into bed and leave them breathless in more than one sense of the word. This time, he still had to be able to complete his own mission, and not suspect that anything was awry in the slightest.

Her hands trembled thinking about it. This mission was slippery and relied heavily on perfect timing. She only hoped her superiors hadn't overestimated her ability to charm men when playing on their lust wasn't her objective; she had never really been ordered to talk to the targets before.

Running her hand over the brown, bouncy curls that trailed down her back and adjusting the neckline of her dress she nodded to herself and went over the details, her lips moving silently as she mouthed the facts she needed to remember.

"My name is Marie de Chagny, I am twenty-three years old, birthday first of May. I was born in Bordeaux and moved to Paris in the September of 1938 to attend the University of Paris, studying Literature. I ended my studies upon the outbreak of war to make munitions in a nearby factory whereupon I was scouted to begin a career as a backing singer. I have worked with Edith Piaf, though others are not so worth mentioning. My target is a courier named Wilhelm Herbst, aged twenty-seven as of the nineteenth of August. He will enter with the documents in a briefcase, likely to take champagne at the door, before engaging in small talk around the outskirts of the room to make himself inconspicuous. He is due to swap briefcases with his own contact at 2218, thirty-three minutes after arriving. He will greet the man as old friends and speak boisterously to marginalise any company. Both briefcases will be set on the table beside them before they nod at each other, salute, and pick up the other's case. He will make small talk with those he passes and gradually make his way towards the door before exiting the facility at an estimated time of 2230."

Juliette sucked in a breath and nodded to herself, closing her eyes and allowing herself to feel the air leave her lungs when she exhaled. She could do this. She'd done similar hundreds of times over. She couldn't let the fact that she was alone this time get to her.

She looked over the three pictures of her target she'd been given one final time; one of his profile, one of the back of his head, and one head-on. Then she ripped them up. She'd studied the photographs so carefully she knew she'd recognise this man in a crowd of thousands. She had nothing to worry about.

Checking herself in the mirror one final time she fluffed her hair, sprayed some perfume, and smiled, hopeful that everything would go smoothly and she would return to William briskly and without incident. If all went well, she would be back in Aldbourne within a few hours, and to every unsuspecting eye in the village it would be as though nothing had happened at all.


	7. A Woman Like That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I have ridden in your cart, driver,   
> waved my nude arms at villages going by,   
> learning the last bright routes, survivor  
> where your flames still bite my thigh  
> and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.  
> A woman like that is not ashamed to die.   
> I have been her kind."   
> \- Anne Sexton, Her Kind

The Grand Staircase of the Paris Opera House was truly resplendent. Juliette had only ever heard of it from the glowing words of her father, who spoke of France and of Paris with more fondness than he had ever used to speak of her. She often wondered whether he had regretted moving their small family from France when she was eleven years old; she seemed to remember that being around the time it had all gone wrong.

Regardless, of all the things her father had gotten wrong, his detailed and awestruck descriptions of the Opera House had been entirely right, if perhaps even slightly modest.

The great bustling of activity was jarring with all she knew of and had experienced during her time in Paris, what with the strict Nazi curfew of 9pm whereupon the city went dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop and it would sound deafening. Of course, what was Nazi implemented could also be tweaked for the benefit of the Nazis, too, so for this glistening event those invited and those invited alone were permitted and even encouraged to stay as long as they pleased, well into the night.

It was 2133 when she arrived, having gotten through the remarkable security in six minutes, and she knew she had twelve minutes before she could expect to see the courier she was targeting, Wilhelm Herbst, entering the Grand Foyer. Despite how much she longed to linger in the entrance hall and take in its grandeur, she had a job to do, and she had to time it perfectly to ensure she ended up in exactly the right place that she would be one of the lucky people Wilhelm engaged in small talk.

Making her way up the Grand Staircase she stuck to the left side, trailing her hand along the gold plated banister if only to be able to say that she'd done it. Her touch was feather light, afraid to corrupt its luxurious beauty, and as she gently pinched the material of her long dress up by her thigh in order to prevent tripping she hoped she appeared more demure and innocent than she felt as she ascended the large stairs.

The stairs split off to the left and right once she reached the top and she knew it was the left hand side she was to choose in order to make her way into the Grand Foyer, where both her target and his contact were due to meet. Crossing the short distance to the left staircase, having to head for the banister farther away from her on account of the lingering guests, just as she began to walk up the stairs a hand reached for her unoccupied wrist and grasped it.

"Mademoiselle," the voice spoke through a heavy German accent, and she turned to find a highly decorated Nazi smiling down at her. She smiled demurely back, glancing down in what was certain to appear as shyness but was actually her scanning his uniform in order to work out what she was dealing with. He was an Oberführer she realised quickly, which was very high up and thus very irritating. She would never be able to brush him off and get away with it, which meant her tight schedule was in grave danger.

"I am sure we have not met," he spoke in heavily accented French, and she looked back up at him with a smile brighter than she knew he would have expected and wanted to see; she needed to lose his interest, but the game was tricky. She couldn't make herself so unappealing as to draw suspicion as to why, but she also couldn't maintain the soft, polite act she had been going for, for men in positions of power did so love to dominate the vulnerable. It was a balancing act, though more than just a pair of plates were at risk of crashing down if she failed.

"I am sure we have not either," she replied, her French perfect from a childhood spent in France and a French father. "I am Marie de Chagny. And you?" She knew that an air of mystery was always desirable so made herself an open book to him. Without leaving him any questions to wonder on he had nothing to chase, and she needed him off of her back about thirty seconds ago.

"Oberführer Becker," he told her with a shark-like smile, bowing as he slid his hand from her wrist to bring her fingers to his lips. "It is a real pleasure, mademoiselle."

"The pleasure is mine and mine alone, I am sure, Oberführer," she told him with yet another overenthusiastic smile that was all teeth and squinted eyes. She prayed she seemed so overeager he'd find another girl to chase but his eyes never left her. Inwardly, Juliette let out an almighty scream though kept the grin etched firmly into her features. _Fucking Nazis_ , she thought with all of the contempt she could muster.

"If I may be so forward, mademoiselle," the Oberführer spoke and took a step closer to her, so close she could smell his aftershave, and leaned in until his lips were brushing her ear, "you are perhaps the most wonderful creature I have ever set eyes upon." He leaned back slightly to take in her reaction and she fought her gag. The audacity some of these men had would forever astound her. No one was as entitled as a man who had had his ego stroked so relentlessly by other men he believed himself to be somewhat of a gift to humanity. And the fact he thought he was seducing her was purely laughable. Juliette was not intimidated by, nor complimentary of, men who had done nothing worthy of appreciation and yet believed they were worth commending. Coming from a wealthy and powerful family may have gotten him into Hitler's good graces, but she would never bow down to a man who grabbed unassuming girls by the wrist and forced them into a conversation they were legally not allowed to refuse.

She wanted to spit in his face but instead remarked, "'Perhaps'? Where is your certainty, Oberführer? Do I compete for your affections?" She hoped that by being so brash and forward he would back off and realise he was getting a lot more than he bargained for by attempting to seduce her, but his impish grin only sharpened.

"Perhaps you do." She knew what was coming and hated that she had overlooked the opportunity for the conversation to take this turn, but her mind was preoccupied with how much time she was losing by being locked in conversation with this horrible man. "And if that is the case, what will you do to prove that you are the obvious winner?"

Juliette took a small step backwards and away from him and tilted her head devilishly. She had wasted about a minute and a half, by her estimation, talking to him and she had, quite frankly, had enough. She only had ten and a half minutes left, part of which needed to be reserved for getting to the Grand Foyer, and her patience was dwindling by the second.

"Do you happen to know where the restrooms are, Oberführer?"

The man's eyes hardened and his smile tightened into something threatening. "I'm sure you can wait."

That confirmed it for her. He was just as dangerous as she had assumed. It had served her well to always predict the worst in people, and she resented that it had become somewhat of a habit. Or perhaps a defence mechanism. She didn't care to make the distinction.

"That is not," she began, looking up at him through her eyelashes and reaching out to brush her fingertips over the sleeve of his dress uniform, "what I had meant, _monsieur_."

That sickening, hungry smile returned to his face as he grasped the wrist that toyed with the fabric of his uniform and moved past her, beginning to ascend the left staircase with an urgency that Juliette had only ever witnessed in men waiting to have their way with her. It was an urgency that disgusted her, and if she was being truly honest with herself (which she rarely was), frightened her.

The Oberführer didn't spare a single glance back at her as they wove through the guests littering the hallway that led to the Grand Foyer. She had pored over a map of the building long enough to know which bathrooms he would be taking her to, and was endlessly grateful for its proximity to her intended destination. It would take her all of thirty seconds to make it from there to the Grand Foyer, she just hoped that that wasn't all the time she had to spare otherwise she was certain to have to drop the demure act and approach the courier directly, decreasing her chances of having him willing to follow her out of the room.

When Juliette and Oberführer Becker reached the women's restroom he charged in ahead of her, releasing her hand whilst he ordered every woman in there to leave immediately. The authority and seeming anger in his voice was unsettling. His booming words were spoken in both French and German to make sure he was universally understood, and they commanded submissiveness and unfaltering obedience. This was a man who didn't like to be kept waiting.

Once the bathroom had been cleared he beckoned Juliette in with a false gentility, and once she had taken his outstretched hand and stepped into the restroom he wasted no time in slipping past her to lock the main door behind them. Juliette noted that all of the stall doors had been left wide open, demonstrating that they were well and truly alone, and gave herself a slight conspiratorial nod. Now was not the time to lose her nerve, and as she locked eyes with her reflection in one of the sink mirrors she knew she wouldn't. She may look like an angel, and indeed her pale gold evening gown only enhanced that image, but she knew she was a far cry from the dainty little thing he was expecting to dominate.

He might be violent, but she fought dirty, and she had been taught by the best.


	8. Hide Your Fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires." - William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Juliette knew she had to go about this carefully. The pale gold of her evening dress would be too easy to stain, and it had to be silent - the Grand Foyer was only a few rooms over and likely filled to bursting with high ranking Nazi officers. If she messed up, she was worse than dead, for she had heard of what they did to spies in order to get information out of them. She toed a dangerous line, and to pull this off was more slippery than the actual mission she had been sent to carry out.

As Juliette gazed in the mirror she watched Oberführer Becker turn from where he had locked the bathroom's main entrance. He surveyed the back of her with a primal, animalistic lust before crossing the room to stand behind her in a mere two strides, pressing his front to her back and meeting her eyes in the mirror. Looking at him in the reflection under the brightness of the lights she acknowledged that he must have been at least fifty-five, which made the situation all the more difficult to stomach. Of course, she was used to older men preying on her, but when his hand began to trail up the side of her, tracing its way up from her lower hip, she saw the glint of his wedding ring, too, as it caught the light. Juliette briefly wondered where his wife was and why she hadn't been accompanying him to this fine event, but as he trailed a hand over her breast she acknowledged that it was likely so that he could engage in situations exactly like this one. Her faith in the male species was at an all-time low.

When the Oberführer traced a line from her shoulder and across her collarbone she broke eye contact with him in the mirror and instead closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder, letting him think she was enjoying it. When he clasped his hand around her neck she gasped, her eyes shooting open, and he smiled malignantly at her through the mirror before trailing his hand down the centre of her chest.

He was enjoying his power.

Juliette lifted a hand to rest on the side of his face and when he grasped it violently around the wrist she spun underneath his arm and slammed him backwards into the tiled wall. She freed her wrist and pushed his arm away with both hands and all of her might. In a flash of dark grey he reached for her. She sent the heel of her shoe straight into the centre of his left foot, smashing the bone to pieces exactly as she'd done a million times before. When he cried out she pushed him back against the wall again with so much fervour his head, which had gone relatively limp with the pain, slammed back against it.

Unfortunately, there would be blood after all.

Just as he had done to her mere seconds before, Juliette clasped a hand around his neck, pinching his windpipe between two fingers and closing it without much difficulty. It was keeping him there that was always the problem.

As his hands grasped at her she grabbed onto one of them and held it firmly against the wall. Not much could be done about the other. His large hand gripped her waist so tightly she had to fight with everything she had inside of her not to scream. He attempted to push her back but with his depleted air supply, cracked open head, and smashed foot his weight was unbalanced. She squeezed his windpipe tighter and released his arm, grasping his hair to send his head back into the tile with another resounding smack.

His eyes began to blur. His grip slackened.

"Who are you?" he uttered, in accented English this time, voice choked and quiet. He slid down the wall and she crouched to follow him, her grip on his neck never faltering. Juliette watched as the life left his eyes, his gaze falling on the ground and staying there, his hand falling from her waist entirely, and his other arm going slack in her hold.

Juliette paused a few moments, making sure she was absolutely certain before she dared let go, eventually sitting back on her heels. "I'm afraid I don't quite know, myself," she whispered sadly, sparing the dead man a final glance before getting to work.

Acting quickly, as she gathered that by now she probably only had about three minutes if she was lucky, perhaps more likely two and a half, she grasped the Oberführer under the arms and dragged him to the stall farthest from the door. She folded him into the corner and locked the door from the outside once she was certain he couldn't be seen.

Juliette carefully wiped the blood off of the wall from where his head had hit it and stood back to look once more in the mirror. After smoothing her brunette hair back into position and straightening her dress, she forced a smile before turning from her reflection, despising the sight of it. She couldn't even look herself in the eyes. How she could appear so unaffected even after watching the life leave a man right before her eyes had always bothered her, but she had a mission to complete, and she couldn't fail.


	9. One Masked Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In Paris, our lives are one masked ball." - Gaston Leroux, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra

Juliette made it to the Grand Foyer with enough time to offer polite smiles to those who glanced her way and tuck herself against the wall, nestled safely in a corner close to the door where she knew she could hide from unwanted attention. She glanced around the room in the remaining minutes she had to spare, taking in the faces of those around her and paying close attention to the positions of all of the Nazi officers.

There were two exits to the room, the one through which she had entered and one at the other end - indeed, the Grand Foyer was more of a hallway than a room, though it was the grandest hallway Juliette had ever witnessed, to be certain. It was decked out in more gold than she could even comprehend the cost of, winding into intricate designs which all seemed to reach towards the main event; renaissance paintings that danced across the ceiling. Intricate and incredibly beautiful paintings of cherubs and heavenly figures, common people and nobles, told a story she couldn't even begin to dissect, shades of sky blue and forest green giving way to deep reds and purples. Juliette thought she could stare at those paintings for the rest of her life and never once get bored, and tore her eyes away with much reluctance.

She scanned the room once more until her eyes fell upon the courier's intended contact, his briefcase hanging at his side and tucked safely between him and the wall, though it was not the contents of that briefcase which were valuable. She would hardly have been surprised if it was empty.

Juliette estimated she had around thirty seconds before an unsuspecting Wilhelm Herbst was to make his entrance and she set about subtly making sure she was ready. She stood taller, pushed her shoulders back just a tad more, and let a soft smile draw up her lips. Gone once more was the girl who had just killed a man in the bathroom, though the image of the Oberführer had lodged itself in her brain and haunted her through apparitions which appeared in the face of every Nazi present.

Through her peripheral vision Juliette watched the man from the pictures enter the Foyer and accept a champagne flute as expected, before moving off in her general direction to mingle. The briefcase that had what she needed was gripped carefully in his right hand and he, too, made sure it was flanked by himself and the wall as he began to speak in fast German to an officer and his wife.

Juliette watched with practised interest that betrayed that she wasn't at all intrigued as to the contents of the conversation, but rather the man who was initiating it, and soon caught Wilhelm's eye over the officer's wife's shoulder. Shrinking under his gaze, Juliette drew her eyes to the floor and let her smile grow just slightly before looking back up at him through her lashes and dimpling prettily when she found his eyes still locked on her. His smile grew and she knew she had him.

Finally, something was going right for her tonight.

Wilhelm made quick work of politely ending his conversation before making his way directly over to her, downing the last of his champagne and handing it off to one of the waiters that lined the walls before coming to stand before her with a charming smile. Up close he looked younger than she knew he was; there was something about him that was incredibly boyish, even in spite of the perfectly pressed dress uniform and meticulously styled blond hair.

Wilhem Herbst looked young, innocent, and naïve, and funnily enough, that was exactly what she needed him to be.

"Mademoiselle," he began, his accent already less obvious than that of the Oberführer from before, "might I say that a similarly exquisite being has never walked the earth. I am sure the heavens opened and dropped you here if only to show the world what it was doing wrong."

_Ah_ , she thought, _so he's a smooth-talker_.

"You flatter me far more than I fear I deserve, monsieur," she replied, matching his English though with a French accent, dipping her head demurely and exhaling all of the air out of her lungs only to hold what was left, forcing a blush into her cheeks.

"Would you tell me, my angel, what is your name?" he inquired, and where the Oberführer had commanded her submission, he was asking whether she would grant him the pleasure of knowing her. It was a welcome change of pace, though the uniform was much to his detriment.

_Nice try_ , she thought.

"It is Marie, monsieur," she told him with a gentle smile, fluttering her lashes as she added, "Won't you tell me yours?"

"To my friends, I am Wilhelm."

"Are we friends?"

"I should very much like to be." And there was what she needed.

"Will you tell me, monsieur, what do you think of Paris? Do we not have the finest art in all of the world?" she inquired of him, gesturing to the ceiling above them and glancing at it once more, though he spared it only a single glance before returning his gaze to her face.

"The art in Paris is very beautiful, though it pales remarkably in comparison to its inhabitants. Mademoiselle Marie, have you ever been to Berlin?"

"I am afraid I haven't," she confided. The lie fell as easily from her lips as the air she exhaled.

"Oh, my dear, then you have not lived!" he announced, his words accented and so loud she might have thought he was seeking to address the whole room. "You will never find finer art than that in the Pergamon."

"Well, I am sure I can change your mind," she replied, breaking eye contact in order to gaze out across the room again, aware of his eyes on her as he considered her words. He would follow her, she knew it.

"Oh?"

"Have you yet visited, monsieur, the Opera's Dancers' Foyer?" She knew, of course, he hadn't. She knew he had only arrived seven minutes previously, and the Dancers' Foyer was rarely used for public events aside from by the corps de ballet of the Opera House, who wouldn't be there because the night's performances had not yet commenced.

"I am sure I haven't."

"Then allow me to attempt to change your mind, monsieur? It shall only take a moment." She knew that he knew he had time to spare before having to make the briefcase swap. It would be reckless to leave the Foyer and she knew it, but she was a more experienced spy than he; he was merely a courier, and a new one at that. Plus, she had him wrapped around her little finger. He would follow anywhere she led.

"Lead the way, mademoiselle."

As they slipped out of the Grand Foyer, which had filled up so much they left relatively unnoticed, she babbled off in a thick French accent the many times she had visited the Opera House and how one of her friends was in the corps de ballet. She could feel Wilhelm's eyes never once leave her face as she led him by the hand through the many hallways of the Opera House, not fully listening to what she was saying regardless, until they came upon the famed _Foyer de la Danse_.

It was substantially less well lit than the Grand Staircase and the Grand Foyer, but that added something to its beauty, Juliette thought. She had never seen the Dancers' Foyer before but something about it made her feel quite at home. A single, extravagant chandelier hung in the centre of the relatively small room, its many candles illuminating the gold plating of the columns that lined the walls and large floor-to-ceiling windows. The limited lighting which spread like a beacon from the chandelier bathed the room in an almost ethereal glow, half gothic and half romantic.

It was the kind of lighting that was deceiving, and where Juliette usually appeared so angelic, in the low light she left Wilhelm wondering 'beauty or beast'?

Juliette took the courier gently by the hand and led him across the room until their backs were pressed against the mirrors that covered the entirety of the north wall, and pointed upwards until his gaze followed her finger to the pale blue renaissance paintings that littered this ceiling, too. However, whilst the Grand Foyer's paintings had been all about extravagance and grandeur, these were much more elegant. There was a certain softness to them that spoke of a gentler time. Juliette had not known such a world, but smiled at the dream of it the paintings offered her.

In the candlelight these paintings were far more beautiful than the Grand Foyer's could ever be, she decided, and knew Wilhelm thought the same as his eyes remained transfixed on them. Or perhaps he was humouring her. She would never know, but it didn't particularly matter, for his attention was averted and that was all she needed.

"You are quite right. It is spectacular."

"If you think those are beautiful you should see the view from the window."

The blond man looked down at her with a smile for a few moments before crossing the room absentmindedly to look out of one of the windows at the dark Paris skyline. He had left his briefcase on the floor behind him where he had left it to rest whilst he looked at the ceiling.

Knowing she had no time to waste, Juliette crouched beside it and entered the numbered code before unlocking it silently, slipping out the envelope before replacing it with the identical one she had hidden in a strap on her thigh, the slit on the other side of her dress serving its purpose dutifully. Within the space of a few seconds, the briefcase was once again shut and locked, and Juliette tucked the correct envelope back up under her dress, rising to her feet before crossing the room just as Wilhelm looked back at her with a smile.

"It is quite the beautiful view, no?" she asked him softly, caressing a line from the centre of his back to his shoulder with a single finger.

"Not quite as beautiful as the view before me now." And then he kissed her, with much more fervour and passion than she had expected of a man so slight and with such charming words. Looks could be deceiving, she supposed.

When he pulled away his eyes seemed to land on the briefcase on the floor by the mirrors, for his eyes widened and his eyebrows hopped up.

"I am afraid I have some business I must attend to, mademoiselle," he told her, and she feigned great upset. He raised a hand to caress her cheek and smiled gently. "Wait for me here and I will return faster than you know it."

She nodded with a renewed smile and he left with the fake intel, sparing her a final glance and smile before he left her in silence. She waited the three minutes she knew it would take him to return to the Grand Foyer before making her exit.

Now she just had to get out of Paris, and back to the safe haven that was Aldbourne.


	10. All Sunshine, All Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all shadow." - Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Aldbourne was quiet upon their return, but it was quiet in a much different manner to how Paris usually was. In Aldbourne, there was life, there was love, and there was hope. In Paris, you could tell that the city had lost some of its soul with its unwanted visitors. It was a shell of what it had once been.

Juliette envied the paratroopers in some ways, and pitied them in others. They were so green they had no idea what was ahead of them, and still dreamt of a life in peacetime, a life beyond the war. She could not say the same of herself. However, it was for this very reason that she also pitied them. When reality hit them, it would hit them hard. She knew this from experience.

William held the front door to their house open so Juliette could precede him in entering, and she smiled at him as he did so. The pair tried to be as silent as possible upon making their way through the porch, though halted in place when they found Alexis, Thomas, and Martin all sitting in the living room anyway. Juliette smiled as William came to stand beside her; they had been waiting for them. For her.

Thomas was the first on his feet, grinning when he saw her in one piece. "Guess you don't need us anymore, then, huh?" he teased, coming to stand before her to look her over for injuries properly. "How was it?"

Juliette produced the envelope from a pocket of her jacket - it was impractical to jump out of a plane in an evening gown and thus she had changed into her jump gear upon leaving the city - and offered it to him. Thomas took it and handed it straight to Alexis, who was lingering just behind him with Martin.

"Good work, Juliette," Alexis told her, and she smiled and nodded to him.

"Jules." Thomas pulled her attention back to him again. His eyes were soft, his eyebrows drawn together. "How was it?"

"Sumptuous," she replied through a grin, and he laughed, leading the group back to the living room where he took the arm chair, Juliette and William shared the sofa, Martin leant against the doorway leading to the kitchen, and Alexis stood before them all.

Alexis opened the envelope carefully and nodded his approval when he drew out the contents. Juliette had succeeded in replacing two photographs, one of Thomas and one of Alexis, as well as a physical description of Martin with fakes - photographs of special operatives who had already died and a skewed physical description of what could have been anyone.

Alexis looked to Juliette and kept his expression reserved, but nodded again. "Well done. Now we can work again in Paris."

"Lucky us," said Thomas, earning a chuckle from Juliette and William and a snort from Martin. Alexis was professional as ever, but Juliette thought that she may have seen the tiniest of smiles tugging at his lips. Perhaps, however, it was a mere trick of the light.

"I think," began Martin, pushing off from the doorframe and turning to the cabinet behind him, "this calls for celebration." When he turned again he brandished a bottle of whiskey, and Juliette groaned whilst William cheered and Thomas let out an "Ay!"

William raced into the kitchen faster than she'd ever seen him move before returning with wine glasses, and Juliette shared an eye roll with Thomas, though they both laughed. William was wicked smart when it came to equipment and anything mechanical, but with common sense? The lights were all off and no one was home.

"No," Martin groaned, taking one of the glasses off of William with a look of contempt. "Will, mate. Really?"

"What?"

"Lets use them anyway," Juliette decided with a grin. "They're fancy."

Martin took it upon himself to pour the whiskey, not trusting William with the task, before he delegated each glass to his companions. Alexis accepted his rather reluctantly, but he accepted it nonetheless, and Juliette smiled at her friends as they all stood and gathered into a circle in the centre of the floor.

"To the lady of the hour!" Thomas announced, nudging Juliette so hard she almost spilled her drink. She shoved him back with equal ferocity.

"To Jules!" everyone echoed (aside from, of course, Alexis, who never called anyone by anything other than their Christian name) and downed the contents of their glasses in one.

William looked positively giddy, Martin exceptionally proud, and even Alexis' hardened expression had softened. She looked to Thomas who slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him, and she positively beamed. She would do anything for these boys.

Their glasses were quickly refilled, though after the second time Alexis resolved to go to bed, taking the retrieved intel with him. By the fourth the remaining four were in fits of giggles.

Juliette sat back and watched as Thomas attempted to show William how to jitterbug whilst Martin heckled them from where he now leaned against the liquor cabinet. She laughed when William fell once again. All of a sudden, however, her giggles turned to sobs and she found herself shaking as she gripped onto Thomas, who had rushed immediately to her side.

That man had had a wife, and presumably children. He was a Nazi, she reminded herself harshly. _But_ , she thought, _he was also a man_.

Whilst the killing had gotten easier over the years, how each of them came to cope with it varied immensely. Sometimes Juliette found that she was relatively unbothered, which was sickening. But sometimes it tore her up inside. Either way, processing what she'd done so easily never really did seem to get easier.


	11. Almost Every Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad." - J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

The sunlight was a welcome reminder that all she had done the previous night was in the past. She tried to remind herself that what she had done was what she had had to do, but it was difficult, and she knew Alexis meant well but he really hadn't helped.

Thomas had put Juliette to bed the previous night and sat on the floor at her side until he was certain she was asleep, and there was little commotion beyond that. This morning, however, she had been expected to give a mission report, and all of the boys were obviously intrigued as to what had caused her breakdown; they had been polite and conscientious enough to allow her to cry it out without question the night before.

When she mentioned what had happened with the Oberführer Alexis hadn't been happy. He'd accused her of a great many things in his quest to make them all the best they could be, but a cold-blooded killer had never been one of them.

"I didn't have a choice!" she'd insisted, tears welling in her eyes at his insinuation on the contrary, and he turned eyes on her that were unnervingly cool.

"You always have a choice, Juliette."

Well, it certainly hadn't felt like it.

Juliette left the house shortly after that, having delivered the rest of her report stony faced and indifferent. She didn't need to be accused of anything more by him or anyone else, she was already disgusted with herself.

The brunette girl sat in one of the many fields surrounding Aldbourne in silence, twisting the blades of grass that surrounded her crossed legs. From this angle, the field seemed infinite, and the sun healing. It was a tiny pocket of peace in which she could pretend that the peace was infinite, too. Peace was a concept becoming more arbitrary by the second.

She was lost in thought as she stared mindlessly at the set of trees that lined the left-hand side of the field, ripping out grass by the handful, when a voice from somewhere on her right called out a tentative, "Miss?"

Juliette didn't hear him at first, a frown etched deep into her features and her eyes unblinking in their gaze. The man tried again. "Miss?"

This time, she jolted in her place, head snapping in the direction of the voice. She looked like a deer in headlights, the man thought - or perhaps, rather, a fawn. He pulled on a small smile in the hopes of easing the tension in her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Hm?" she replied, though she had heard him perfectly, and then shook her head as if to clear away all previous preoccupations. "Oh. Yes. I'm okay, thank you." The man didn't look convinced so she offered, "I'm waiting for a friend."

"Oh." _Yep_.

"Are they gonna be long?" he asked. He really didn't mean to bother her but the vacant look in her eyes made him wonder whether she was actually okay. When she looked up at him again he thought that she wasn't, for there was a look of profound sadness on her face. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and was struggling not to collapse under the burden.

When Juliette looked into his eyes for the first time the lie died on her tongue. He was clearly just trying to help. She opened and closed her mouth in the search for words before he offered her a lifeline. " _Is_ there a friend you're waitin' on?"

She sighed, a deep and exhausted sound, before turning doe-like eyes on him. "You could be my friend?" She was tired of closing herself off. Perhaps she needed a friend who didn't share in her knowledge of the terror she had seen, the terror she had done.

 _Yes_ , she decided, _a friend like that would be rather nice_.

The dark-haired man fought a smile and lowered himself into the grass beside her. That hadn't been quite what he was expecting. He looked out over the field with her and was content to simply revel in the quiet; he had never really been one for intense conversation, and he decided that the girl would speak if and when she wanted to.

"What's your name?" she wondered, keeping her eyes trained on the trees. The man decided to do the same when he replied.

"Eugene."

"Eugene," she repeated, trying the name out for size. Then she turned to him. "Are you scared, Eugene?"

"Of fightin'?" She nodded. He mulled the question over in silence for a few moments before speaking again. "Can I be honest with you?"

She smiled. "I should be rather disappointed if you weren't."

At this, he smiled too, even though the words he spoke weren't worthy of one. "I'm terrified."

Again, she didn't look at him, but she nodded, the only indication that she'd heard him at all.

"Well," she spoke up after a few minutes' silence, and turned to look at him again, "I hope the war is kind to you, Eugene." Though the war was never kind to medics. This she knew to be true.

He nodded once at her before looking at the grass beneath him. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Penny," she said simply.

"Penny," he began, and the named sounded rather funny in his deep southern accent, she thought. "I hope the war is kind to you, too."

She smiled at him then, and he gave a small smile back. From then on they just sat in silence, taking in the view together and revelling in the quiet. All the while Juliette thought that this was what friendship had been like before the war, before friendship meant launching yourself in front of bullets for the other or holding one another in moments when the world seemed to be falling apart. A friendship where all they needed to offer one another were kind words and a comforting presence.

In that case, she was glad to have made such a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just finished writing, so to commemorate the occasion i've given you three chapters. hope you like them <3 (also, to everyone who has left a kudos or a comment, i hope you know i'd die for you. truly.)


	12. A Heart that Never Hardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts." - Charles Dickens, Hard Times

Juliette didn't see much of Eugene in the days that followed, though to be honest she didn't see much of anyone. She kept herself to herself - or rather, she kept herself to her boys, with whom any animosity had long since dissolved. Alexis was always harder on her than on the others, and though she didn't quite know why, it was something she had had to accept long ago.

William, innocent as he always was, had seemed to experience quite the shock when he had first heard of what Juliette had done in order to get her mission back on track. But, ultimately, whilst he was innocent he wasn't sheltered. He had been in the field just like all of the others, though from a much bigger distance, and had seen and experienced death in his own ways. None of them had been able to avoid it. His shock had died with the days.

Thomas hadn't reacted much, though she could tell he had struggled to understand her actions. He, however, was the only other member of the team who had truly experienced life in the field undercover, and he knew Juliette well enough to know she wouldn't have taken the risk if it wasn't entirely necessary. He had come around very fast and without much need for encouraging, though he was always like that with her.

Martin was the only one who had barely batted an eyelid when he had heard her recount the story. He generally was the fastest to resort to violence in order to complete a mission, which sometimes made him a liability and sometimes their greatest asset, for he was also deadly good at it. Juliette was grateful for his presence at that moment, and after she left she knew he would've been the first to fight her corner. She was grateful to him for that.

It was four days after first meeting Eugene that Juliette next saw her new American friend. She came across him attempting to remove crates full of medical supplies from the back of an army truck, and she immediately jogged over to him and took one of the crates from him.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, never much one for greetings. She shrugged.

"Helping."

"Well, thanks," he told her. "I can do it myself, though."

"Eugene." She turned to him when he tried to take the crate back off of her. "You don't have to do it by yourself. That's what friends are for." At this he rolled his eyes with a small smile. "Plus, it'll be quicker this way." To his credit, he didn't protest again.

Eugene Roe led the way towards what had been set up as the medical tent, which was on the other side of the village (though, admittedly, that wasn't very far).

"The sky is very blue today," she told him absentmindedly. As they walked quietly side-by-side she squinted up into the sunshine and took in the view above them. "It looks almost like a painting."

Out of nowhere the memory of the paintings in the Dancers' Foyer of the Paris Opera House flashed before her eyes, which had been a similar shade of blue, before she shook her head and looked ahead of her again.

"Yeah, it kinda does," Eugene agreed. He thought that Juliette, or Penny as he knew her, looked happier today, much more at peace than he had last seen her. He was glad for it, for she seemed to brighten when she smiled, and he could tell that she was a gentle soul. She shouldn't have to battle through whatever was bothering her alone, and he hoped she hadn't. They weren't quite there yet as friends themselves, but he hoped she had someone else to confide in. When he saw her smile suddenly once more as she noticed something, he thought she might.

"Is Aldbourne anything like your home, Eugene?" she wondered, realising she didn't even know where home was for him. She had been able to gauge that it was somewhere in the American South from his thick accent, which she enjoyed listening to very much even though he spoke very little, but she didn't know specifically. Not that it would make much difference to her, as her knowledge of the geography of America was, admittedly, shocking.

"Louisiana," he told her. She nodded in acknowledgement that that was where he called home. "And no, not at all. Aldbourne is... British."

Juliette laughed. "As opposed to what? Had you expected it to be Dutch?"

The American rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "No. I mean, it looks just like how I imagined England would look. It's nothing like home. There's a lotta nature here, though. I guess that's kinda similar."

"Do you miss it?"

He nodded but offered no words, and Juliette could understand the sentiment. She, too, missed home sorely, though he must have thought she was there that very moment. In truth, it had been longer than she cared to remember since she'd been home or seen her family, and it stung to think about so she chose not to.

As the pair turned a corner Juliette caught sight of two men dressed in the more formal attire of the American paratroopers, as opposed to the ODs Eugene was wearing. He had obviously seen the pair of officers too, for he glanced at Juliette as they drew closer.

"Sirs," Eugene addressed them when they came to stand before them. He inclined his head to them respectfully and Juliette thought he probably would've saluted if he hadn't had his hands full.

"Doc," they both replied through polite, though genuine, smiles.

In the short silence that followed all three men turned their eyes, seemingly subconsciously, to Juliette, who smiled back at the unknown duo awkwardly and offered a, "Hi."

The dark-haired man laughed easily whereas the ginger one's mouth merely twitched, the only telltale sign that he shared in his friend's amusement.

"Do we have a new recruit, doc?" the darker one said. His eyes remained on the misplaced girl whose smile broadened at the question.

"He didn't ask for my help, I offered," she jumped to reply before Eugene had the chance. "Well, forced him to let me help, really." As an afterthought, she added with genuine concern, "That won't be a problem, will it?"

The ginger man shook his head with a slight smile and muttered a soft, "No," which told her he was perhaps rather fond of Eugene. Meanwhile, the dark-haired, shorter one chucked lightly again.

"Your secret is safe with us," he told her, and she grinned.

"Great!"

Juliette turned her smiling face to look at Eugene, who shrugged and inclined his head at the two officers again before proceeding to lead Juliette in the direction they were heading before.

"You got a name, greenie?" Juliette heard from behind her. She turned to find the darker-haired man watching her expectantly, all raised eyebrows and cheeky smiles. She decided then that she rather liked him.

"Yes. Do you?"

He laughed easily and shot a glance at his ginger friend as if checking that he had heard her, too. "Lewis Nixon."

"Pleasure to meet you, Lewis Nixon," Juliette told him. When he tried to suppress his growing grin and titled his head expectantly, she cracked, a grin of her own spreading across her face. "Penny Williams."

With that, she turned on her heel and started off again in the direction they had been going, a blur of brunette hair that bounced with every step. The officers she left in her wake watched her in almost confusion before looking at each other at the same time and sharing a slight laugh.

What a whirlwind of a girl, Lewis Nixon thought. And he decided then that he rather liked her, too.


	13. Face Unto Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Face unto face, then, say,  
> Eyes mine own meeting,  
> Is your heart far away,  
> Or with mine beating?"  
> \- Thomas Hardy, Between Us Now

A few days after Juliette had helped Eugene with the medical supplies and run into the two officers, she was taking a walk through Aldbourne with Thomas. As they had been in Aldbourne for over two weeks by now it had been deemed appropriate (by Alexis, naturally) for them to begin interacting in public, so Juliette and Thomas had seized the opportunity immediately. Thomas had been desperate to introduce her to some of his new paratrooper friends, and she wasn't at all surprised when he told her this for he, much like herself, always seemed to accidentally break the rules Alexis set for them. They had been told to avoid the Americans, and Juliette had really tried, but it was difficult with so many of them around.

Though, she acknowledged, Thomas seemed to have broken this rule a little bit more liberally than she had; where she had found a friend in Eugene Roe, he had found friends in many of the men. He just couldn't help himself.

"That is the ugliest fucking cat I have ever seen in my life," Thomas said as they walked along the road that led into the village, passing the abundance of fields on their way in. The cat he was referring to wore a collar and Juliette thought that it probably did for the sole reason that it looked homeless. Its grey fur was patchy and knotted in places and it had a wild look in its eye that reminded Juliette slightly of Martin when he had been permitted to go in on a mission.

The thought made her laugh, which Thomas mistook for disbelief of his hyperbolical declaration, so he insisted, "It is, I swear. Try and tell me you've seen an uglier cat, Jules, just try."

Juliette rolled her eyes exasperatedly before grabbing his arm and towing him along with her once more. "Stop staring at it, please, it looks like it's going to maul you."

"It'd probably give me about fifty diseases if it did," he replied. He maintained eye contact with the cat as they passed it.

"That's someone's pride and joy you're talking about!" she protested, though she laughed as he finally turned away from it and they continued on into the village. "Anyway, brief me on who your paratrooper friends are. I want to know what I'm walking into before I'm forced into conversation with half a dozen yanks."

Thomas chuckled. "Where to begin, little Jules, where to begin." She hated when he called her that and he knew it. His smile grew when he felt her eyes burning a hole into the side of his face. "First one I met was a guy named Smokey - I don't know his real name - but he's pretty harmless. Then there's Tab -"

"Is his real name Floyd?" Juliette enquired.

Thomas shrugged. "I don't know, maybe. Why, have you met him?"

Juliette rolled her eyes once more. "If his real name's Floyd then I have. If it isn't then I haven't - why don't you know any of their real names?"

Thomas shrugged nonchalantly. "Never came up. It's not like any of them know yours." He grinned childishly when she scoffed.

"For good reason, and they don't know yours either!"

Thomas giggled as she shoved him lightly. He set his footing right again before they turned a corner into the outskirts of the village. "Uh, who else is there? Um, Bill Guarnere - there's a real name for ya! I think you'll like him, too, he's a funny guy. Then there's also Joe Toye, and the other Joe, whose last name is Liebgott, incidentally..." Thomas proceeded to rattle off a list of about a dozen names, leaving Juliette's head spinning.

"Christ, Tom, how many of them did you meet?!"

"I don't know, a few." He grinned at her and leaned in close as if revealing a terrible secret. "Don't tell Alex."

"You're terrible. Why do we even keep you around?"

"Aw, Jules, you don't mean that. Who else would get your arse out of trouble every time you decide to mess around in the field? See, out of all the jobs I've ever had, that's the one I'm best at."

Juliette laughed. "Hm, maybe." She appeared contemplative. "But I think you've got yourself beaten where being a royal pain in my neck is concerned."

Thomas went to reply but his words died in his throat when his eyes caught on something behind Juliette. He suddenly turned back to her and leaned down until he was at eye level with the girl, his eyes wide and mouth pulled into as straight a line as he could manage. Juliette tried desperately to hold in her laugh until she could gauge what the situation was.

"Behind you - no, don't look! Jesus! - is the girl I met the other night. You know the one I told you about? Blonde with the greatest legs you've ever seen? Stop looking at me like that. Anyway, she's right over there and I swear to God she did not have a boyfriend when I slept with her." Juliette couldn't hold it in anymore and a laugh all but exploded out of her.

"Jules!" Thomas whisper-yelled, eyes flicking between her and the girl behind her almost comically fast. "This isn't fucking funny, Jules, he's like, seven feet tall. Eh, I could probably still take him. Maybe. If he was riotously inebriated, perhaps. You know, Jules, one day your face will get stuck like that and I'll laugh."

Juliette practically burst into hysterics the moment he'd finished speaking, doubling over with a hand pressed firmly against her mouth as if she could shove the giggles back in. Thomas' eyes flicked over to what Juliette assumed was the girl once more and this time she turned subtly so she could watch from her periphery, too.

"Look, Tom, he's leaving!" she told him once she'd regained composure, even though he could clearly see for himself. She giggled to herself as she watched the large man wander away. "He is rather impressively tall, isn't he?"

"You're not helping."

"Sorry."

The pair watched as the man left the village centre before Juliette turned back to Thomas. "You should go and talk to her."

"And leave you all by yourself? What kind of friend would I be -"

"Thomas."

"En route."

Juliette leaned her back against the brick wall of a tailor's as she observed Thomas' conversation from a distance with a poorly suppressed grin.

Meanwhile, a group of paratroopers chose exactly the right time - or the wrong, if Juliette were to be asked - to enter the vicinity, for the direction in which they were walking allowed that their eyes missed Thomas and his conversation entirely and instead landed on Juliette, who was still watching him with mirth in her eyes.

"Hey, d'ya see that broad over there?" one of them asked. He was a dark-haired man with a strong jawline and a thick Philadelphia accent who had been previously mentioned to Juliette as Bill Guarnere, not that she would remember. At his question the rest of the men in the small group turned to try and locate who he'd been talking about.

"Huh? Oh, hey, that's Penny! Me and Tab met her the other day when we were getting the laundry," said a ginger man Juliette would recognise as Don, though who was more commonly known by his surname, Malarkey, to his friends.

George Luz, one of the shorter men in the group who prided himself on already being acquainted with everyone in Aldbourne (apparently everyone but her) had his eyes firmly set on Juliette whilst she continued to watch Thomas with a growing smile. "The other day? Why the fuck am I only finding out about this now?"

"Well, why would you wanna know?" Malarkey countered, glancing at him with raised eyebrows. 

"Malark, the single most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life is standing over there and you wanna tell me you met her a few fuckin' days ago?"

"Oh, great. Look what you've done, Bill. Poor little Luz is in love," Skip Muck heckled. He was a close friend of Malarkey who was rivalled only by Luz in his ability to send an entire room into fits of giggles with a single sentence.

Bill Guarnere merely scoffed, sharing a look with Joe Toye, another man Thomas had mentioned to Juliette.

The five men watched with thinly veiled amusement as Juliette quickly jumped out of the way of the door to the tailor's, which had suddenly opened up from the inside and clearly made her jump. Once the person who had emerged had gone and the door had closed once more she pressed a hand against her heart to calm its rapid beating and giggled to herself. George's smile grew tenfold.

"I'm gonna go talk to her."

"Yeah? Well tone down the heart eyes first, alright, Luz?" Joe Toye drawled.

"Yeah, careful, Luz, or you'll give yourself a headache," added Skip, which made Malarkey laugh.

George headed in the general direction of Juliette to the soundtrack of multiple loud groans behind him, though the sound of their footsteps on the cobblestones told him they were following him anyway.

When they drew nearer Juliette turned to them, having heard their jump boots slamming into the ground with every step. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly as the group of five came to stand before her, wondering why on earth they were approaching her when she stood what she had assumed was inconspicuously out of the way. 

The man leading them grinned at her broadly.

"Hi there, miss. I'm George Luz, and I'm gonna marry you someday."

"Luz -!" Malarkey guffawed from behind him. Skip choked on the water from his canteen whilst Toye looked like he was about to die. Guarnere's eyes landed on his friend displaying a mixture of shock and horror.

Juliette's eyebrows shot up as she suppressed a laugh.

"Is that right?" she asked him. She found Malarkey in amongst the crowd of men, who she recognised. All he could do was shrug at her sheepishly before avoiding her gaze, and she looked back to the man before her, George Luz, as he replied.

"Sure is, miss. I wouldn't lie to you."

Juliette almost laughed. "Very kind of you."

"So, what's your name?" Juliette thought the way his attention was focused so unfalteringly on her was endearing, though it sent a chill down her spine as the strength of his gaze remembered the night in the Paris Opera House.

"I'm sure," she began, turning her eyes to Malarkey who appeared bashful behind him, "you already know. Am I wrong?"

"Never a day in your life, miss," George replied. This did earn a smile out of her, which made his smile, in turn, impossibly brighter. "So you're Penny?"

"Certainly am."

"Well, I'm glad to meet you, miss, really."

His wholehearted enthusiasm was admirable. She shook her head with a smile. "Glad to meet you, too. Who are your friends?" she wondered. She looked past him if only to turn the attention away from herself; under the gaze of that many curious eyes she found herself beginning to fidget.

"I don't know if you'll remember, miss, but we met the other day," Malarkey began, and she smiled at him.

"I remember, Don. It was you and Floyd, no?"

"Yeah, Tab. He's around here somewhere too." So Tab _was_ Floyd. _Mystery solved._

Juliette nodded before looking to the man to his left expectantly. "Oh, I'm Skip Muck, ma'am. Miss. Ma'am. Madam?" She laughed aloud at this, not having expected it. "Great to meet you."

"You as well."

"Joe Toye," added the man to Skip's left. He offered her a slight nod and nothing else.

"Bill Guarnere!" cried a voice from behind the group. Thus, it was through Thomas' loud mouth that the final man had been introduced to her.

"Hey! It's Henry!" the man with the strong jawline, Bill Guarnere, replied, obviously knowing Thomas by his fake name just as they knew her by hers. "How the hell are ya?"

Thomas shared a look with Juliette, which set her to giggling again. "I've been better."

"Any luck?" Juliette asked him. She felt rather than saw the eyes of the gathered men flicking between them rapidly, wondering how they knew each other.

"I'll give you a guess," Thomas replied. He turned his face to show them his right cheek which had a bright red hand mark splayed across it.

Various noises of exclamation rang out from the men, though Juliette opted for a more subtle, "Bloody hell!"

"Needless to say, she wasn't pleased to see me."

"What the fuck did you do?" Guarnere asked with genuine intrigue.

Juliette giggled again, it bubbling out of her before she could stop it, and slapped a hand across her mouth when Thomas sent her a glare, though it was half-hearted at best.

Thomas turned his eyes back on the group of men and thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which he'd come. "That fine specimen over there? Has a boyfriend. Who is not me."

The hisses that rang out from the five men, as though they had all been burned, told Juliette he'd probably already informed them about his late night rendezvous with the blonde girl.

"The way you talk about women, honestly," Juliette sighed with an eye roll.

"She's jealous," Thomas stage-whispered to the men.

"Bugger off."

"Touchy, touchy. Anyway, I see you've met half of the cohort I was due to introduce you to. Have they been looking after you in my unfortunate absence?"

"With the upmost dedication. I've had a marriage proposal and everything."

Thomas laughed, having half-expected it if he was honest.

"Oh? Who's the unlucky fella?"

"If that's your way of accepting, miss, I'll have you know I'm the luckiest guy in the world," George replied with a cheeky grin. Juliette laughed again. He was relentless.

"Oh, so we're in the company of the future Mrs. Luz, huh?" Thomas came over and slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his chest and messing up her hair. "Bless your little cotton socks!" he crooned.

Juliette scowled and pulled back from his grip, fixing her hair as the men all laughed at the pair. "Do that again, see what happens."

When Juliette looked back to the Americans she found that George's eyes had practically turned into actual hearts and laughed, only breaking his gaze when the tall, intense-looking Joe Toye spoke up.

"How do you two know each other?"

Juliette smiled. "We grew up together." In many ways, this was perfectly true.


	14. How People Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another. Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays?" - Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Juliette was gazing curiously through the window of a pub when she heard the commotion. Her eyes snapped away from the glass as she turned to face the direction she'd come from, taking an automatic step forward as she watched an older man, likely in his fifties, approach William with both the speed and posture of a man out to pick a fight. She'd seen men like him enough times to know exactly what she was looking at when he glared daggers at her friend.

His words were getting progressively louder but from her distance were still incoherent, so she approached slowly whilst looking through various shop windows along the way in order to appear casual, pausing once she was close enough to eavesdrop successfully.

"Dad," she heard a voice cut in before she could take in any of what William had been saying to the man. "What's going on?"

Watching through her peripheral vision, Juliette noted that the man's son was standing there on crutches. He'd lost his leg, and instantly Juliette could work out what the confrontation was about; it was a situation that had, of course, arisen before, but it made her heart sting every time. Her boys didn't deserve it.

They'd already had stones thrown at them, been spat on, and handed flyers that simply announced how much of a disgrace they were. When would enough be enough?

The older man didn't spare his son a single glance. "Are you going to tell me, then? Or would you rather tell him?" he spat at William. He inclined his head sharply in the direction of where his son stood just behind his right shoulder. "Why are you any better than him? Well?! Why do you get to stay home and pretend the war isn't on whilst he spends three years away from me and comes home a broken man. When his friends don't come home at all. What makes you so fucking special?!"

Juliette desperately wanted William to say something but she knew there was nothing he could say. They both knew how it looked for him to be walking around Aldbourne with no discernible injuries and no military uniform. In the eyes of the rest of the world, he was a coward. The thought appalled her. Made her sick.

"You're a disgrace to your family. And you're a disgrace to this country. You're a traitor. How the fuck can you sleep at night?!"

When the man spat in William's face Juliette had had enough. By now he'd drawn the attention of a crowd and the fact that none of them, locals and Americans alike, decided to step in made her feel ill. He didn't deserve this, especially after all he'd sacrificed and all he'd done.

"How can you be so cruel?" she asked the man, coming to stand beside William with eyes that stung him with their profound sadness. She was horrified at how someone could say such things to another human being.

The man turned on her, furious. "I don't know why you're piping up. What the fuck are you here for? You could be a nurse."

"And you could be a decent human being, though I suppose that's a tad too big of an ask," she bit back, seconds from losing her temper. He went to interject but she spoke louder to talk over him. She was sick of men trying to silence her. "What do you think you get out of picking a fight? The moral high ground? You're sorely mistaken if that's it." He went to interrupt again but she simply spoke over him. "Or is it perhaps a feeling of superiority for picking on someone half your age? Picking fights with younger and smaller men must make you feel so big and tough. That's it, isn't it?"

She saw the rage burning in his eyes and knew she was getting to him. Good. Let him hit her in front of everyone. Make a proper fucking scene, she silently begged him. Maybe then people will think better of picking on one of her boys for their seeming lack of service to their country. These people knew nothing of what they did for the war effort.

"You little -"

She held up a single finger. "No. You're going to listen to me. I don't know who the fuck you think you are and, frankly, I don't care, but whatever it is that makes you think you have the right to accuse people of things you have no idea about is mere delusion. I'm _not_ finished! Just because he doesn't walk around in a uniform doesn't mean he isn't doing his part, but even if he wasn't, who are you to say anything about it?

"And you," she turned on his son. "You know what it's like out there, better even than your father. And yet you say nothing." The man shrank under her gaze.

Juliette could feel what felt like the eyes of the entire village on her as she drew in a shaky breath and tried to calm down. The words the man was throwing at her were like radio silence to her now. She took a step back and tried to school her features back into some semblance of calm.

Finally, out of the total silence that had fallen when he'd finished ranting, she turned back to the man. "Next time you feel like stroking your ego why don't you do something deserving of having one at all instead of picking fights with people you know nothing of. You ought to be ashamed."

As she turned on her heel and walked away she heard him grumble obscenities about her but refused to turn back. He could call her whatever he wanted, but she'd shut him up. She just hoped that enough people had witnessed it to prevent it from happening again.

When she went to push through the crowd the people gathered moved out of her way, and she caught sight of a large group of the paratroopers, including some she had met the previous day. Her steps faltered as she stared back at them, eyebrows furrowing as she tried not to cry at the state of the world.

Not a single one of them had tried to step in. She didn't quite know why she had expected they would. Blind optimism, perhaps? The last remaining shreds of the person she was before the war, who saw the good in everyone until they actively showed her the bad? Regardless, she berated herself for believing that they would do anything. The only people a spy could trust were the ones who went out into the field with them. In the eyes of everyone else they were a group of people who were either too lazy or too scared to do their bit. And whilst the Americans were friends with Thomas and had been friendly enough with her, she was reminded that they must have seen them both in the same way. She was reminded not to trust them.

"For the record," she began, speaking to the men quietly enough that she wouldn't draw another crowd but loud enough for them to know that she was addressing them, "you ought to be ashamed, too." And with that she made her way straight back to the house, hoping William was following her and that he wasn't too badly humiliated.

Her heart ached, not just for her friend but for a world that saw enough conflict between enemies, let alone between allies. And it ached for herself, who had somehow become someone who only had four people in the entire world who she could trust. Who only had four people in the entire world who truly knew her. The war had taken everything from her, and she wondered why she was ever so eager to take on a job which required such a sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i gave you 3 chapters bc leaving it on 13 does not sit right w me :/ also these are my 3 least favourite chapters in the whole thing but they're necessary for plot so like sorry but i hope you enjoyed (but it's all uphill from here! (i think. maybe. can't really remember. the writing gets better from here though)) <3


	15. Everything But Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Why do I find everything but peace?" - Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary

Juliette actively avoided the Americans after what had happened in the village that day. She knew she shouldn't really blame them - they knew nothing of the war, really, and had never even seen the front lines, plus they had likely never even met William and thus felt no loyalty towards him. But as friends of Thomas, who was in much the same position, she felt that they might have at least tried to put a stop to it. It didn't sit well with her that that many people could watch what was essentially just a boy be publicly condemned and humiliated and not do anything about it.

Maybe they agreed with the man, she thought. Maybe they secretly thought that Thomas should be serving on the front lines, too, and that Juliette should be a nurse or a Wren or whatever else. But even if they didn't, she wasn't sure she wanted to be associated with people who could just stand by and watch something that hurt her heart so much, no matter how many times she told herself she could understand why they did it. Because the truth was, she couldn't understand. She could see their various reasons, but that didn't mean she understood.

The only American she interacted with was Eugene, who seemed to cross paths with her quite frequently. He still didn't really talk much but he had begun starting conversations as opposed to only speaking when spoken to, and that told her that he had warmed to her. She had never gotten the impression that he disliked her, but she thought that he was just like that; he didn't want to share too much too soon. She could understand that. She thought that she should perhaps try being a bit more like that.

"I heard what happened the other day. What you said to that man," Eugene told her one day when he'd found her in the same field he'd first met her in. He'd seen her and spoken to her in the days since the incident so she wondered whether he really had just found out about it, or whether he had waited until she had cooled down a bit to bring it up. Regardless, she was grateful she'd had time to mull it over before she had to talk about it to a friend of the men she'd reprimanded.

"I suppose you heard what I said to some of your friends afterwards as well then?" she asked quietly after a short pause.

"Yeah."

Juliette nodded and sighed. "I let myself get angry too fast," she admitted. She contributed nothing else.

"Is he a friend of yours? The boy?" Eugene asked after a few moments. He glanced at her once before looking out across the field again, squinting into the early-morning sunlight.

Juliette nodded once more. "Yeah. And he's gotten that before. He doesn't deserve it."

"Does anyone?"

Juliette smiled in spite of herself. Eugene was a gentle man, and she hoped that he, at least, was someone she could take at face value. She didn't get the feeling he saw in her what the others probably did. It made sense to her that he had been picked for a medic; she couldn't imagine him intentionally hurting anyone.

"The men, they..." Eugene began before trailing off, searching for the right words. "Don't be too hard on 'em 'cause of what they did - or didn't do. They mean well." Juliette didn't react, though he knew she'd heard him. "They talk highly of you, you know."

Juliette gave a small, bitter sort of laugh here. "I've met them once, twice in some cases. They don't know me well enough to speak highly of me." And that, oftentimes, was the problem. "They know Henry." She, of course, meant Thomas, but couldn't use his real name. "I bet they speak rather highly of him, and he deserves it, but what if it had been him the other day instead? Would they have stepped in then? Is it about loyalty or is it about morals?"

"I don't know," said Eugene. Neither did she.

Eugene left a little while later for training and Juliette saw no real reason to linger. She wandered back to the house at a leisurely pace, taking in the quiet whilst the paratroopers were all on some sort of field exercise in the next town over. By the time she had turned into their very quiet road tucked away right on the edge of the village, it had begun to rain. It was drizzle, really, and it was warm, but it gave the air a sort of sticky, humid quality. She hoped there'd be a rainbow after it stopped.

When Juliette had pushed through both the front door and the door to the porch she found the rest of her team already gathered in the living room, and her heart fell to her feet. One glance from Thomas told her all she needed to know. They'd been given more orders.

Alexis held up the distinctive envelope their mission details always came in, a dark yellow A4 package with a stamp that kept out prying eyes through transmission. In silence, Juliette came to sit on the arm of the sofa, next to Thomas.

"This one's called Operation Bodyguard," Alexis began when he was sure they were all seated and listening. "The Allies will be invading Normandy sometime in the spring. At the moment they're thinking the end of May. Our job is to begin sowing seeds that would suggest that the invasion of France will be coming through Calais instead, so the Germans will focus their troops and artillery on the wrong beaches," he explained. "A truck will come here to pick us up at 0000 and we'll be jumping at 0045."

"Into Calais?" William asked.

Alexis sighed. "Into Paris."

"Already? It's not been long enough since I had to replace the pictures they had of you. You're at risk of being recognised!" Juliette protested.

Alexis shrugged. "This mission is bigger than us. If they have to sacrifice a couple of spies for it then I suppose they've deemed it a risk they're willing to take."

"What seeds are we planting, exactly?" Thomas asked. Alexis drew three slips of paper out of the envelope and handed them to him first.

Juliette looked at them over his shoulder. The first of the two photographs depicted two men smiling at the camera in Nazi uniforms, the second a woman who appeared not to be aware that someone was taking her picture, and the third was a map which had some sort of route outlined on it in red ink, flanked by two haphazardly drawn circles.

"Thomas, you're going to be a German spy. You'll find the two men in the first photograph outside of the Café de Flore at 0939 tomorrow morning and tell them the code words. When they reply with the appropriate response you'll hand over this," here he drew out a smaller envelope and showed it to him, "which is a fake transcript of a radio transmission you have supposedly heard through a stolen radio. The transcript will tell them that the Americans are preparing the First U.S. Army Group, led by General Patton, for an invasion of Calais set for May.

"William, you'll transmit morse code later on in the day reiterating that the Americans are preparing for an invasion of France, though you won't say Calais and you won't mention Patton. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," both men replied.

"Juliette," Alexis turned to her. She felt the familiar nerves bubble up in her stomach, wondering what it would be this time. "The woman in the second photo is Claudette Brodeur, she was first a member of the Maquis and later trained and operating as a British spy. She's heading into a suicide mission at 0900. She doesn't know it's a suicide mission. You'll find her as the wife of one of the German officers and ask her for directions to the Gestapo HQ, telling her your husband has asked you to deliver a letter by hand. She'll find a way to get the letter off of you - be careful that she doesn't try to kill you for it, though I don't think that should be a problem since she's on a time restraint. The Nazis will find the fake documents when they check her body for intel. I'll have Martin ready as a sniper in case she does try anything, in which case just plant the documents on her and leave - the Nazis know who she is and they'll be looking for her. That's a worst case scenario, though. You should be fine."

"Where will you be?" Juliette asked him.

"I'll be in the same building as William, keeping an eye out for any unusual activity." That, unfortunately, did not make Juliette feel any better. Even though Alexis was not an undercover specialist and thus was rarely undercover, it always made her feel better to know that he had eyes on her and was there to intervene if need be. It was stupid, because she had Martin, but she supposed that that was how it was with COs: you trusted them beyond logic.

At least, she decided, this time he'd be in the same city as her. Her last mission had been lonely hell.

"Any questions?" Alexis asked. They all remained silent. "Right. Dismissed."

When they all stood to disperse Alexis called Juliette back. He waited for the others to filter out of the room before he began speaking.

"Juliette, you know I'd do this for you if I could," he told her. She wanted to run from the room and the conversation so badly. She didn't need his pity just because she'd broken down after the last mission - they were two completely unrelated situations, and it wasn't like that was the first time she'd had to do something difficult to achieve her objective.

"Alex, don't," she told him. She turned her head to the side and rubbed at her eyes if only so she didn't have to look at his pitying gaze. "I'm fine. Plus, they had a picture of you. It's safer for me to go in. And you don't even speak German."

"I know," he told her, "which is why it has to be you. I just want you to know that if there was a way around it I would go instead."

She appreciated the sentiment, but not the fact that he'd deliberately searched for a way to make her redundant in this mission. Going undercover was her job, and she was damn good at it, and she didn't need the way she coped with what she had to do to be the thing that made him pull her off the line.

"Alex, that's kind of you, but I'm fine. I don't mind." This wasn't entirely true, but for all relevant intents and purposes it held up. "Last time, I was alone and things didn't go according to plan. This time will be fine."

"Martin will be with you," he reiterated, as if to reassure her that he wouldn't let her go in by herself again if he could help it. This did earn a small smile out of her and she sighed, conceding. 

"I know. Thank you for that."

Alexis brushed her comment aside and when she turned to leave once more, satisfied that the conversation was over, he called after her, "Just be careful, okay, Jules?"

At this, she paused, turning back to look at the man with her eyebrows raised and a small smile drawing up her lips. "You just called me 'Jules'. You never call me 'Jules'. You never call anyone by their nickname."

Alexis' eyebrows furrowed, and Juliette realised he hadn't even intended to do so. She giggled, shot him one last smile, and went upstairs, ready to begin sorting through what she needed to do.


	16. Stubborn Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart." - Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

Juliette's stomach was in knots as she wandered around Paris in the light of the early morning. Her route had been perfectly coordinated to collide with Claudette Brodeur's at exactly the right moment. The thought that her target this time was one of their own made her feel almost light-headed. It was so easy to imagine it being her: a French-born British spy operating out of Paris who was walking straight into an ambush. Juliette fiddled with her fingers in front of her, her handbag hanging daintily from the crook of her right elbow as she kept her head down and her wits about her.

How she was supposed to do this, she had no idea. To send a woman who was just like her to her inevitable death, leaving her with no idea that she was about to speak her last words and take her last breaths, was almost like tying the noose herself. And God forbid that things went so awry that Martin had to step in and shoot her. Juliette couldn't think too long on that particular scenario for every time the thought popped into her head bile rose in her throat.

Juliette went over everything she had planned to say in her head one final time as she turned a corner and the building Martin would be watching from came into view. To fool a Nazi was one thing, but to deceive a spy was another. This woman had likely had the exact same training she had, so she had to be careful to deliver her most convincing performance yet.

When the woman came into view at the other end of the road Juliette began to look around confusedly, giving the appearance of being lost. Meanwhile, she stole calculated glances at the woman in order to gauge what she was dealing with. The woman was likely in her early thirties, with light brown hair and cherry red lipstick. She was dressed in the typical attire of Parisian women and, much like Juliette, carried a handbag which contained something that was much to the Nazis' misfortune.

Juliette carried on walking all the while and only paused once she'd landed right underneath the window she knew Martin would be observing from. She let out a loud huff mixed with a frustrated groan.

When the woman came nearer, Juliette spoke up. "Excusez-moi s'il vous plaît," she began through a thick German accent. "Pouvez-vous m'aider?"

"Sind Sie Deutscher?" the woman asked with a small, amused quirk of her lips. That was the foundation Juliette needed; the woman had recognised the German accent even through the French, so this was about to be much easier.

Juliette laughed with relief and thought on how strange it was that they were both pretending to be someone they weren't, though only one of them knew as much. "Ja. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

The woman smiled warmly at her and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Ein Bisschen." Juliette knew she spoke more than just 'a bit' of German, but she was just keeping up appearances. She was rather good at it.

"Ausgezeichnet! In diesem Fall können Sie mir mit Richtungen helfen? Ich muss zur Gestapo-Zentrale. Wissen Sie, wo das steht?" At her mention of the Gestapo headquarters it was clear that the woman's interest was piqued, for she came a bit closer and sized Juliette up subtly. If not for her training, Juliette never would have noticed, and she made a mental note to try and abstain from doing the same thing lest Claudette recognise it in her, too.

"Ja," the French woman replied in the affirmative. "Aber warum müssen Sie da gehen?" Already, as was typical of spies, Claudette was attempting to pry for information as to why Juliette would need to go to the Gestapo headquarters.

Juliette pulled on her most ditsy smile. "Mein Mann hat mir einen Brief gegeben. Ich weiß nicht, worum es geht, aber er sagte mir, dass ich es persönlich liefern muss." She could tell that Claudette was already intrigued about the contents of the letter she spoke of, and especially as to why she had to deliver it personally. She knew that everything was falling into place.

"Es muss ganz wichtig sein," Claudette replied. Juliette gave a small, air-headed giggle and shrugged. _Yes,_ she thought, _it is rather important._

"Ich könnte es für Sie liefern," the French woman suggested. And there it was - Juliette had been hoping she'd offer to deliver the letter herself, "wenn Sie das wollen?"

Juliette feigned uncertainty - it couldn't be too easy, or she'd raise suspicion. "Ich weiß es nicht..." she trailed off, hoping the woman would convince her. "Wenn es so wichtig ist, soll ich wahrscheinlich -"

Claudette quickly cut her off to inform her that she was heading in that direction anyway, and that she could be trusted. "Versprochen," she added as an afterthought, attempting to reinforce both her promise and her trustworthiness.

Juliette knew that time was tricky here; Claudette was on a mission herself and was almost certain to need to be getting on her way, but would the wife of a German officer, however ditsy, really give up a letter that she knew to be of some importance that easily?

Juliette told the woman that the offer was very kind of her, but she was still unsure. "Es muss in einem Stück dorthin gelangen - aber ich habe nicht so viel Zeit... Oh, wird es nicht was für ein Problem für Sie sein?"

"Keine Umstände!" Claudette replied. Juliette smiled gratefully as she somewhat reluctantly removed the unmarked envelope from her bag.

Juliette thanked the French woman profusely as she handed it over, in both French and German, and Claudette made a big show of tucking it safely into her bag. However, wary of time, she very quickly offered her goodbyes and set off once more.

As Juliette watched the woman begin to walk away her stomach turned. This woman was walking into her death.

She couldn't help but think on how similar they were - did this woman have a team waiting for her, just like she did? Friends who relied on her and had come to know her as family? How easily it could have been her walking mindlessly into an ambush was dismaying, and she found herself, not for the first time, really thinking on her own mortality. How easy it was to die doing what they were doing, and therefore how much more important it was that they didn't.

How could she live with herself if she let this woman walk straight into an ambush? She would be disgusted at herself, but then again she already was. Was it worth risking her life for this woman she didn't even know? But then again, why should her life be more valuable than this woman's? What really made one life more worthy of saving than another?

"Excusez-moi!" Juliette called out suddenly, this time leaving off the German accent. She rushed over to Claudette where the woman had paused in a mixture of confusion and exasperation. In order to demonstrate her clear English accent, Juliette whispered to her in English, "I know who you are. Claudette Brodeur, right? You're a British spy and you used to work for the Maquis. I need you to know that you're about to walk into an ambush. The Nazis know who you are and they know what you're about to try to do. They'll attempt to take you in for interrogation and you'll have to use your cyanide. I need you to trust me on this."

Juliette could see the turmoil on Claudette's face plainly, the first real emotion she'd seen from the woman. Eventually, she replied, "If you know what I am about to do and you do not work for the Germans, why would you try to stop me?"

Juliette had to fight to maintain composure and not let out the frustrated growl that bubbled up in her chest. "Because they know who you are! They've set up a trap and you're about to walk straight into it. You need to trust me!"

"I trust no one."

"I was sent to plant false intel on you for the Germans to find on your dead body, I swear to you I'm not lying. I _promise_." Juliette was pleading with her at this point. She wondered distantly whether Martin was still watching her. "God, I'm British!"

"And yet, you have a perfect German accent."

"And a perfect French one, too!" Juliette felt like ripping her hair out. They were running out of time, and there was little more she could do. "If you turn that corner and continue on with your mission you are walking into your death, I swear it."

The woman took a step back from her and thrust her shoulders back, tilting her chin up proudly. "To go out of this world bringing down the Nazis is as good a way as any."

With that, the woman turned on her heel and continued on the way she had been going, and Juliette felt like collapsing into a puddle of tears on the floor.

What a terrible burden it was to know that someone was about to die. A terrible, terrible burden indeed.


	17. A Second Light, A Second Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What can you know about a person? They shift in the light. You can't light up all sides at once. Add a second light and you get a second darkness." - Richard Siken, Portrait of Fryderyk in Shifting Light

The small road tucked out of the way in a peaceful corner of Paris had fallen into silence. Juliette stared at the place where Claudette had once stood, eyes glazed over but otherwise stony faced. She had tried. That had to be enough.

Why was it never enough?

Martin's voice erupted out of the silence that had fallen, though it was only a pitched whisper, "What the fuck did you just do?"

She didn't even turn around, and continued to stare in the direction the French woman had just gone.

"She's walking into a trap, and she knows it."

"You told her?" Martin's voice was sharp in her ear, though it barely registered.

Juliette turned to him very suddenly. "Give me your gun."

"What?"

"Give me your gun," she said, louder. "I know where she's headed - there was a map in the intel that showed her mission route. If I'm quick I bet I can make it in time."

"What are you on about? -"

Juliette cut him off by taking his handgun instead, which thankfully already had its silencer attached - the sniper rifle would be too conspicuous to carry anyway. She shot him one last look before taking off in the direction Claudette had previously gone, running through the streets she knew would be empty and walking the ones she knew were more likely to be watched, all the while incredibly conscious of the gun in her bag.

If she got stopped, it was all over.

Juliette made it to where the map said Claudette was due to plant the bomb - a warehouse the Nazis had been using to make antiaircraft munitions - and crouched behind some stacked wooden crates in a corner. She pressed her back against the wall so that no one could ambush her in the process. She couldn't see Claudette but she could see an awful lot of men she knew were Nazis disguised as workers.

There was a few moments' pause before Claudette came into view, her arm looped through the elbow of a man in a suit who Juliette assumed was parading as the 'warehouse' owner. Juliette didn't know where the bomb was to be planted, or whether she had already planted it or not, and resolved to watch in silence as the French woman conversed with the man.

The conversation appeared to become interesting when Claudette turned her entire body to face the man, as if affronted. Juliette's attention was drawn away sharply at the feeling of a hand pressed against her mouth.

She turned wide eyes to the left to find Martin crouching next to her, a scowl set on his face, and she'd never been so relieved to be the brunt of one of Martin's icy glares. He took his hand away from her mouth and turned to watch Claudette interact with the man in the suit, so she did the same.

However, in the seconds that had passed since she'd last looked, multiple of the disguised workers had subtly begun to gather around the woman. Juliette looked at Martin in horror. A front row seat to the massacre was not what she had intended when she followed after the woman. Martin shook his head ever so slightly before turning back to watch again.

The man was speaking loudly enough for the entire room to hear, by now. But all of a sudden, his French turned to heavily accented English, presumably so the other Germans could also understand.

"Or would you perhaps prefer to go by 'Magpie', madame?"

Juliette's breath caught in her throat. That was Claudette's code name.

Very quickly two of the men who had stood behind Claudette seized her roughly under the arms, pulling her back into them whilst she struggled relentlessly. She stomped on one of their feet and sent the back of her head slamming into one of their noses, but there were far too many Germans around for her to make an escape. She was seized immediately by another four.

Juliette felt Martin's hand on her wrist as he mouthed to her, "Don't." She nodded, but she'd decided this anyway. The moment Martin had made her aware of his presence Juliette had known her plan had failed; she'd have been willing to start firing at will if it was only her life on the line, because that was a decision she'd made before following Claudette. She wasn't, however, willing to risk Martin's life as well. Especially after he'd followed her into certain danger just to look after her. And there were too many Germans for them to take out, even between them.

Claudette was putting up one hell of a fight when Martin and Juliette slipped out, the latter a lot more reluctantly than the former, but there was nothing for it now.

At least Claudette still had the fake intel on her.

When they snuck around the side of the warehouse they saw the truck that would presumably be taking her to the Gestapo HQ. They ducked behind more shipping crates to watch as four men dragged the French woman kicking and screaming out of the warehouse.

When they dragged her across the road, however, she stopped struggling. Juliette watched as her head fell forwards and her arms went limp, her feet choosing to walk instead of drag behind her. She watched as all the fight went out of her.

"Why's she not taking the cyanide?" Martin asked through a whisper beside her. He was seemingly just as shocked as Juliette that the woman they had seen try to fight her way to freedom so mercilessly had just given up right before their eyes. "She's supposed to take the cyanide."

It was the first thing they taught you in training. Juliette remembered it vividly.

_A spy can never be taken alive._

The words had sent chills down her spine at the time but she'd become accustomed to them now. But seeing Claudette go willingly made her second guess whether, if it was her, she would really be able to do it. Claudette had said herself that she was willing to die for her cause, but when it came down to it she couldn't do it. Would Juliette be the same if it was her?

She watched as though in a dream as one of the Germans opened the back of the truck to shove the French woman in.

It was like an out of body experience. One of the Germans held a gun to the woman's head but it wasn't him that fired the offending bullet.

Martin and Juliette slipped away before they could watch the Germans search the body, though they heard the man who had held the gun against Claudette's head get a verbal lashing for it. They, at least, did not know that he wasn't the offending party.

When the pair reached the apartment they were using as a rendezvous Juliette's eyes were glazed over and her movements lethargic. As they were ascending the stairs in the building she suddenly stopped.

"Jules?" Martin asked from behind her.

She didn't look back at him. "Alex is going to kill me." It was a sudden, jarring realisation; she'd gone off-script again. He hated when she did that.

Martin paused and looked at her properly as she stood with her back to him. She was almost curled in on herself, hands tucked tightly to her chest and her head ducked. Her voice was so small, so frightened. He raised a tentative hand to rest on the centre of her back to calm her.

"He won't."

She shook her head adamantly. "Yes, he will. He hates when I go off-script, especially when it's that risky. Oh, he's going to be so angry, Martin."

"Jules," Martin begged gently. He rubbed her back in an attempt to get her to look at him. "Jules, look at me," he demanded. Finally, she did turn; they were almost at eye level with her stood on the stair above him. "Let me handle it, okay?"

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you sure?"

He smiled gently at her. "I'm sure. It'll be fine, okay? Don't worry about it."

Juliette nodded at him and offered a shaky smile before turning and ascending the stairs once more. When she knocked the rhythm they had pre-determined as a way to identify each other Alexis answered the door and ushered the pair of them in. Juliette hung back as Martin passed her to speak to him.

She heard Martin explain that he had had to kill Claudette as though she was underwater. She tuned out the rest of their short conversation.

Martin came to sit beside her shortly after, and she didn't even remember sitting down. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders whilst William transmitted his red herring morse code.

"You did the right thing, Jules," he muttered to her, patting her shoulder gently.

Juliette nodded but she considered his words carefully. She wasn't quite so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm about a quarter of the way through book 2 (surprise!!!) and i'm v excited to post it so i'll likely be posting a chapter every day from now on <3 (and thank you very dearly to everyone who has left a kudos and/or comment or messaged me privately, i adore you ALL)


	18. All Over Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Returning to Aldbourne was strange - they'd never really had a base before, so to speak. The team were used to hopping from safe house to safe house in one city and then another, having to stay undercover all the while. Juliette supposed she couldn't really complain about being sent out on missions when they'd had it so much worse once.

She chose to stay locked away in the house for the first couple of days after their return. The pauses between each mission now that they were being pulled sporadically on and off the line were both heaven and hell; at least when she was constantly in the field she didn't have time to think about what she'd had to do. In the relative quiet of Aldbourne it seemed that thinking was just about the only thing there was to do.

Juliette sat in bed well into the day, pencil poised against paper. She had wanted to be an artist once upon a time, and though that dream had long since died she tried to remember the beauty in amongst the horror, and the beautiful ceilings at the Paris Opera House were recurrent in these thoughts.

She missed the version of herself that could make something beautiful out of nothing. Now, though she tried, she couldn't think of a single thing to make art from, and that was as sad a thought as any.

All she'd managed was a single, curved line, not even really knowing what it was the makings of, before Thomas burst in. He had, evidently, had enough.

"I've had enough."

Juliette sighed, knowing what was coming. "Tom -"

"No, listen to me." He came to sit atop the bed opposite her, meeting her eyes with an intensity which kept her silent. "We still have a hell of a long way to go before this war is over. You can't let every mission keep getting you down like this."

Juliette stiffened. "You don't know -"

"No, you're right," he interjected, "I don't know what happened, and unless you wanna tell me about it I never will. But we all have to do things we don't want to do to get the job done, Jules. We all have to make sacrifices."

She sighed, putting her notebook and pencil aside. She fiddled with the duvet, avoiding his gaze, and finally nodded. He was right, as always. "I know." She looked up at him with a small smile. "But feeling sorry for myself is what I'm good at."

Thomas laughed and shook his head. "There's lots of things you're good at, Jules."

Juliette smiled, genuinely this time, and leaned forwards to rest her head on his shoulder. "If I go out today will you come with me?"

"If that would make you feel better, then of course."

What had she done to deserve a friend like Tom? She asked herself at least twice daily.

Juliette sighed a while into the comfortable silence that followed. "I know I'm not the only one who has it hard. I'm sorry."

Thomas smiled to himself and squeezed her a little bit. "I didn't come in here to try to make you feel guilty. I just wanted you to know that you're not alone."

Juliette pulled back from him so he'd see the sincerity in her eyes and know that she was telling the truth. "I do know that. I'd be long dead by now if it wasn't for you." She paused and smiled softly at him. "You will never know how grateful I am for you."

"Aw, don't go all sentimental on me now, Jules," Thomas replied. He nudged her gently in the arm to which she laughed. "Now, come on. I think the world has suffered enough and could do with seeing that face of yours again."

Juliette chuckled and shooed him out of her room so she could get dressed, smiling to herself all the while. Tom was truly one of a kind, and she counted herself incredibly lucky to be among the few he called family. He really would never know how much he meant to her.

The pair left the house a little while later and promised Alexis they'd bring William back with them, as apparently he'd been roaming the village by himself for a couple of hours and Alexis was ever the worried mother hen. Juliette silently hoped that William was keeping himself out of trouble and that he hadn't run into any incidents with the locals again without her there to step in. She told Thomas as much and he suppressed a sigh.

"Yeah, me too. It hurts him more than he lets on when that happens." Juliette had known this already, but she still deflated at the words.

"Have you spoken to your American friends about it?" she wondered. She kicked idly at a stone in her path and watched as it skidded into Thomas'.

Thomas kicked it back to Juliette when he came upon it and thus they paused at the side of the road to engage in their own little game of football. Tom watched her carefully before he spoke. "Not really. They did mention it, though."

Juliette nodded, keeping her eyes on the stone. "Yeah, Gene said he'd heard about it, too."

"I'm yet to meet this famous Gene," Thomas pointed out, "Should I be worried? Is he after my crown?"

Juliette scoffed. "What crown?"

"The crown one earns when they are officially deemed first place in the complicated heart of Juliette Chevalier, of course," he replied. She rolled her eyes.

"You know, he's giving you a run for your money purely because he's less of a pain in my arse."

"I'll kill him."

At this, Juliette laughed abruptly. "Please don't. Anyway, don't change the subject. What did the yanks say?"

She really didn't know why she cared so much what the Americans had to say about her and what had happened. She'd decided she wanted to stay out of their way, so why was she so concerned about what they'd said about her? She honestly couldn't say.

"They told me you gave them a right old bollocking - hey!" Juliette had kicked the stone rather aggressively at him in the wake of the obvious lie and giggled when it hit him in the shin. Thomas raised his hands palms forwards in surrender. "Fine, fine. They didn't say anything to me about it, I just heard them talking. They said you were right, though, to tell the man off like that. Bill agreed with you that they should've stepped in. Don't give yourself a hard time about it, they don't blame you."

Juliette nodded wordlessly, and though she made no action to display it, she felt as though a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Not a huge weight, but a weight nonetheless. She kicked the stone back to Thomas as soon as it landed back at her feet, though when it got to him his attention was averted to his right. A slow grin began to spread across his face.

"Look!"

Juliette followed his gaze and smiled as well when she saw what he was looking at; William was walking down the road flanked by Bill Guarnere and Joe Toye. Will must have felt eyes on him for he glanced their way and smiled, saying something to the two Americans that turned their heads, too. Subsequently, the three men crossed over the road towards Juliette and Thomas, each wearing a variation of a grin.

"We've been keepin' an eye on 'im for ya," Bill began as soon as they were within hearing distance, scruffing up Will's hair, "makin' sure no one gives 'im any trouble. I know that's normally your job, doll, but I didn't see you around anywhere. Hope ya don't mind." He shot her a wink and wore a cheeky smirk that let Juliette know that she was in the clear.

She shrugged at him with a smile. "Doesn't pay much but it's honest work."

"Yeah, well, it was the least we could do," Joe Toye replied, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Yeah, 'specially after you chewed us all out the other day," Bill added. Juliette laughed with a roll of her eyes.

"Well, someone's got to look out for this one," Thomas cut in with a grin. He patted William on the head much to the younger man's chagrin.

"No, they don't," Will protested, which set both Thomas and Juliette to giggling. They definitely did.

"You guys comin' out for drinks tonight?" Bill then asked. He was looking between the three Brits with a quirked eyebrow. Juliette looked to Thomas for his answer, presuming the question to be primarily aimed at him since he had been out drinking with the Americans a few times before.

"Usual time, usual place, boys," Tom replied easily, which set the two paratroopers to cheering and, in Bill's case, slapping him on the shoulder.

"What about you, doll?" Bill then asked her.

Juliette fought a smile. "Not if I can help it."

"Oh, come on! Live a little! I ain't never seen you have a drink once. Joe?"

"Nah, me neither."

"That hasn't been accidental," Juliette informed them with a smirk which made Bill scoff.

"Well, you're comin' tonight. Ain't that right, Henry?"

"I'll drag her there kicking and screaming if I have to," Tom agreed. This made Juliette gasp and press a hand to her chest.

"I've been betrayed."

"Yeah, yeah, cry me a river, sweetheart. We'll show you a time so good you ain't never gonna wanna go home," Bill promised with a wink.

Joe turned to William. "What about you? You coming too?"

"Oh, I'm not sure that's a good idea," Tom answered for him with a mischievous grin.

Before Will could interject Juliette added slyly, "He's a real liability when he's had one too many."

"That so?"

"No! It's not!" Will protested indignantly, and Juliette and Thomas began snickering. He never was good at picking up when they were teasing him, and the duo loved to exploit this fact relentlessly (in spite of Alexis' numerous protests).

"Yeah? Then I'll be seein' all three of you tonight," Bill said. "Won't I, sweetheart?"

Juliette merely rolled her eyes, though she was smiling amusedly.

"You'll be making a lotta the guys very happy with your appearance," Toye promised her. She scoffed. 

"We won't tell 'em you're comin', that way you can get the full scale reaction."

"Oh, how kind of you," Juliette drawled with a shake of her head at their antics. If the rest of the Americans were anything like Bill and Joe she was in for one hell of an evening.

"Can't let her get into too much trouble, though," Thomas cut in, nudging her with his elbow. "She is, after all, an engaged woman now." Juliette groaned.

Tom and Joe laughed whilst Bill downright cackled. William, however, was looking between Thomas and Juliette so quickly he looked as if he was watching a tennis match. He was all wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions, and Juliette knew exactly what was about to come out of his mouth.

"You're getting married?"

The group cracked up, leaving Will to watch them, confused.

Thomas shook his head at the younger man and ruffled his hair. "You know, for such a smart guy you really are an idiot."


	19. To Hear the Birds Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So many broken-hearted people have got to hear the birds sing, and see all the little flowers grow." - Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Lavinia N. Dickinson

"I really don't want to go, Tom," Juliette complained a little over an hour before they were set to leave for the pub. In true Juliette fashion she had managed to talk herself out of the whole affair almost as soon as she'd let them talk her into it, and now her stomach was in knots. She hadn't been on a night out that wasn't on a mission in nearly two years. The concept was so foreign to her she was almost waiting for Alexis to inform her of who her target was.

"Not this again," Tom groaned, though he shot her a smile to show her it was all good-natured. He knew the real reason she was worrying just from looking at her face - almost every time she went out with men who were drinking, someone ended up dead. "It'll be fine, Jules," he assured her. He sat beside her on the sofa and ruffled her hair affectionately. "I'll be there and so will Will and Martin. Nothing bad will happen."

Juliette sighed, her reluctance still written on her face. In truth, she was still feeling weighed down by the guilt she felt about her previous mission, but she refused to let it show; after what Tom had said that morning Juliette knew she couldn't risk being too sensitive about it - that was two missions on the bounce she was struggling to get over. Plus, he was right; the war was far from over and there was much work still to be done. If she couldn't get over it, she would have to try to forget about it.

"Jules, no one has ever needed a drink more than you do right now," said Martin, and he tipped his half-full glass of whiskey towards her with a smirk. He had begun drinking already, predicting that the pub's prices were going to be outrageously high on account of the yanks' not knowing any better.

Tom had managed to convince Martin to accompany them easily, though Alexis had outright refused. He had made his disapproval obvious to them though he didn't protest - they were technically off duty, after all, which meant he had no right to tell them not to go.

"Look at it this way," Will told Juliette with a grin, "you probably won't have to pay for a single drink the whole night! God, what I'd give to be a girl."

At this, Juliette giggled. "Lets trade places. You can deal with the inevitable onslaught of flirty paratroopers and I'll set my mind to trying to woo some girl or other."

Will stuck his tongue out at her childishly. "I'm not Tom."

"Nope," she replied, "but you're just as predictable."

"Just as desperate, more like," added Martin. She laughed, pointing at him to let him know he was exactly right.

"Oh, look who's talking, Grandad," Tom snarked, even though Martin was in his thirties. He plucked the glass out of Martin's hand and shoved it at Juliette. "Drink it and go and get ready. You're coming and it's gonna be great."

Juliette rolled her eyes but downed the contents of the glass in one go. She handed the glass back to Martin, who scowled at Thomas before going to pour himself another. Tom came over to Juliette and tapped her affectionately on the head. "That's my girl. We're gonna drink those yanks under the table."

"Not you, though, William," Juliette cut in. Will groaned.

Martin rolled his eyes. "Mate, you're the biggest lightweight in the world. One sniff of the barmaid's apron and you've gone horizontal." Juliette laughed loudly at this.

Will went to protest but Juliette silenced him by shooting him a smile. "Don't worry, Will, we'll look after you."

Will rolled his eyes as Juliette, Thomas, and Martin all laughed. Juliette subsequently headed up the stairs to start getting ready.

She didn't let herself think too much on the night ahead of her whilst she showered, instead focusing on the task at hand and wondering on what to wear. A lot of her dresses were either way too formal or way too casual for the occasion, having been given to her for missions, though she had to admit that she wasn't entirely certain of the dress code. She ended up picking an off-the-shoulder black dress that cinched in at the waist nicely before flaring out into a voluminous skirt. She got to work on her makeup immediately after; her mother had always told her that one could never go too far astray with a little black dress and some red lipstick, and that was advice she called on more often than she cared to admit.

After Juliette added the finishing touches to her makeup, capping her mascara and pouting her lips to check for gaps in the lipstick, she stepped back from the bathroom mirror and sighed. She missed her mother dearly, and it was times like these, when she caught herself doing the completely mundane, that she was overcome with the longing for home. At her age she was supposed to be getting ready to go out dancing, her mum debating with her over different dresses and how to do her hair. How many rites of passage had she missed in the years she'd been in the field? Would her mother even recognise her by the end of the war, if she lived that long? Was her mother even alive?

Juliette forced the thoughts away and pulled on a smile to brighten her spirits. She may not be at home with her real family, but she was in her home country, which was more than many could say. And she was surrounded by a group of men who were her brothers in every way except blood. They were family to her now, and they were trying so hard to make her forget about what ailed her. She owed them her brightest smiles and her warmest laughs, so that was what she would give them.

She owed them everything, really.

Juliette quickly got to work on her hair, opting for the typical brush out look, and made sure her curls were adequately styled away from her face before nodding to herself once and exiting the bathroom. She made quick work of putting her dress and shoes on, spraying a few spritzes of perfume before making her way downstairs to the cacophony of groans and calls for her to hurry up.

"Christ, what takes you so long?" Tom complained when she finally rounded the corner from the stairs. She found them all gathered in the living room, including, much to her surprise, Alexis.

"Looking presentable takes time, Thomas, though I wouldn't expect you to know."

Thomas imitated her childishly and gave her the obscene two fingered salute whilst Will handed her a glass of what was probably whiskey, given that that was the only type of alcohol that seemed to be stocked in the house - not that they could complain. They hadn't paid for it.

Will, Tom, Martin, and Juliette all clinked glassed before knocking them back, and when Will came up coughing they all laughed.

"What did we say?" Tom heckled, nudging him lightly. Will only shook his head with a smile which they accepted as his formal surrender.

"You lot be careful," Alexis cut in from his place in the armchair, looking up from the newspaper he'd been reading. "Don't let anything slip, and remember to use fake names at all times. And keep an eye out for Juliette."

"I'll be fine," Juliette replied indignantly.

Alexis rolled his eyes, keeping them on the three men. "Watch out for her."

"Aye, aye, cap'n," Tom said, saluting him before leading them out.

"We'll have her home by eight," Will commented, even though it was already nine. Juliette giggled as she followed him out of the door, Martin right behind her.

The walk to the pub the paratroopers apparently frequented was passed with the group messing around and joking with each other, knocking each other about and cracking jokes. Juliette grinned broadly as she watched Martin and Thomas shove Will between them, pushing him back and forth to each other until he was stumbling around like a drunk. Times like these, where they didn't have to watch their backs for snipers or have a hand on their guns in case of suspicious Nazis, were priceless. To see them laugh and to laugh along with them was such a precious commodity she knew she had made the right decision in allowing them to drag her along with them tonight. Moments like these reminded her of why she kept on going, in spite of it all.

It was the little things, she decided.

When they came upon the pub they could hear the loud music and chatter from the outside, and Juliette was grateful that it was on the opposite side of the village to their house. She pitied the locals who lived nearby, for she was certain they must get little to no sleep on any days the Americans had off.

Tom led the way in, followed closely by Will, and Juliette shared a look with Martin at the cheers Tom's appearance was greeted with. Martin, like Juliette, was somewhat sceptical of the yanks, but he would never pass up an opportunity to get drunk. 

Just as Juliette was following Will in, him holding the door for her, she heard Thomas announce, "I brought a couple of guests, I hope you don't mind," and heard rather than saw the Americans' intrigue. She came to stand beside William in the doorway to the rather spacious pub, suddenly feeling rather shy, and felt Martin's presence on her left immediately after.

Juliette laughed lightly at the various exclamations that came from the group of men Tom was heading towards, unsure of what else to do, and was grateful that the sheer volume of them meant that she couldn't make out any of the words that had been shouted at them. She followed behind Will carefully, making sure Martin was still behind her all the while, before they came to a stop in the gap between three tables, one in front of them and two to either side. Someone on her left immediately jumped up and she looked at the man to find George Luz grinning at her.

"It's yours. You can have it," he said, gesturing to the chair.

She flushed and shook her head at him. "No, that's okay. It's yours. Plus, we have to get drinks yet."

"I insist," he told her, holding his hands out as though this was supposed to prove his point. "What are you drinking? I'll get it for ya."

"First round's on me, mate," Martin cut in from just behind her, and she felt somewhat relieved and somewhat sympathetic for George; he was only trying to be nice.

Juliette turned back to George and gave him a smile. "Thank you anyway!"

"Come on, then, lads," Martin called, slapping Will on the shoulder who then got Thomas' attention, "I'm not paying for all of you."

As Juliette followed Martin away she heard George getting teased by his friends for 'striking out' and giggled to herself, though she did feel a bit sorry for him. Still, she hoped it might get him to lay off of the flirting a little bit.

When they got to the bar Juliette smiled at the girl on duty, not at all envious of how difficult her job must be, and told her as much when she began to make up their order.

"Yeah, the yanks are a bit much but the money's quite good. They keep me busy, at the very least," the barmaid replied, and Juliette read that her name was Mary on her name tag. "I love your dress, by the way," Mary commented, beginning work on the second of the three beers that had been ordered.

"Oh, thank you!" Juliette replied almost a little bit too enthusiastically, tugging on the skirt as she looked down at it. "I wasn't quite sure whether it'd be a bit much."

"No, it's stunning! I'd give anything to look that beautiful!"

Juliette blushed bright red. "You're absolutely welcome to borrow it if you want!" It was so nice to talk to a normal girl for once, and in English as well. And to discuss normal things like clothes? She could've cried she was so happy - it was a small shred of her life before the war, the life she missed so sorely.

The girl finished drawing the second beer and looked at her with wide, delighted eyes, "Are you sure?"

"Of course! You look about my size, and with your hair it'd probably look better on you anyway."

The girl, Mary, smiled brightly, obviously touched by the compliment, and began work on the third and final beer. Juliette envied her vibrant red hair, which caught the light so beautifully and fell delicately to her shoulders. Juliette thought that if she wasn't a spy she'd have her hair cut to that length, too, but different countries meant different fashions and it was easier to make long hair look short than it was to make short hair look long. She tried not to be too bitter that she didn't even have a say in her own appearance anymore - after all, her mother had always loved her hair best when it was long.

"Nonsense," Mary replied, beginning to make up Juliette's gin and tonic, "you turned just about every head in here the moment you walked in. I dare say you could wear a potato sack and still be the centre of attention."

Juliette laughed aloud and thanked the girl as she gave them each their drinks, Martin insisting on paying for her regardless of her protests. Juliette knew it was really an attempt to get other men to back off of her, and she appreciated it, but she didn't like other people paying for her. She felt guilty about it every time. Unless they were a Nazi, of course.

Mary moved on to the next patrons and the four spies all turned to face the room again, gathering into a huddle by the bar and clinking their drinks.

"What are we toasting to?" Will asked before they could all drink, and they considered his question for a moment.

"To normality, however short-lived," Tom finally announced. They all smiled, clinking their drinks once more and repeating his words back to him.

As Juliette took a sip of her drink she smiled to herself, taking in the atmosphere of the crowded pub. There were a million other places she could have been at that very moment, but despite it all, she thought that perhaps she wouldn't change a thing and risk missing out on a night in a dingy British bar with three of the people she loved most in the world. There was always a silver lining.


	20. Gleams of Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine." - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

The quartet followed Tom back to the three tables which seated the Americans that he seemingly knew best. They were on their second round of drinks by now after having decided to share their first together. It was so rare for them to get to go out together like this, they wanted to savour it.

Juliette was somewhat reluctant to have to leave the safe bubble of her team and interact with the others again, but the whiskey she'd downed before she left combined with her first drink gave her a sort of warm buzz that dulled her anxiety. This time, when they returned, fake introductions were in order.

Thomas put an arm around Juliette and dragged her up next to him, almost parading her in front of his friends, most of which she'd met in some capacity already.

"Boys, this is Penny. Most of you already know her which is rather unfortunate but I can't do much about that -" Juliette shoved his arm off of her immediately, making some of the men laugh. "She's a little bit feisty but she's a real sweetheart once you get to know her."

Juliette rolled her eyes and avoided eye contact with the Americans at all costs. Thomas really did know how to embarrass her.

The fair-haired man then turned to Will, who stood on his right. "This is James, who some of you will recognise as the unfortunate young man who received a verbal bollocking in the middle of town the other day. Legend has it that if Penny hadn't stepped in he'd still be standing there now." Will made a show of scowling at Thomas but laughed along with the rest of them almost as soon as the glare had hit its mark - a tipsy Thomas was a crowd pleaser and they were all used to it by now.

"Then next to Penny is Warren," Tom introduced, gesturing to Martin on Juliette's left. Thomas paused, likely trying to think up something funny to say about him, before Juliette cut in.

"He's my dad."

Tom laughed loudly and abruptly when Martin shoved her into him. "You're not funny."

"I am a bit."

That seemed to break the ice. Juliette and Martin were pulled into conversation with a group of men that featured Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere, and were quickly introduced to a very tall, mountain of a man named Bull Randleman and a much smaller, though no less intimidating, man named Johnny Martin. It was rather unfortunate that his surname was Martin, Juliette thought, for the paratroopers called each other almost exclusively by their last names and this would no doubt be confusing for everyone who knew the Martin beside her's real name. She hoped Martin himself was used enough to his fake name by now that he wouldn't turn around every time someone called out to the other Martin, otherwise people would probably think he was in love with him or something. She snickered at the thought.

Juliette was soon engrossed in conversation with Bull and Johnny about the common misconception that British beer is served warm, which it most certainly is not she would have them know, though they obviously knew as much already. She was, much to their amusement, horrified at the thought that the Americans had come to England expecting it to be so, and told them to write home immediately that the Brits were not, in fact, barbarians and did drink cold beer just like any normal, sane people.

Juliette felt a pair of hands come to rest on her shoulders and turned to find Tom grinning mischievously at the pair of men before her. "Mind if I steal her away?"

When the men replied in the negative Tom steered Juliette in the direction of where he'd been standing before, only stopping once they'd come to stand before Bill, Don, Joe, and George. With the way all of the glasses had been lined up on the table, she knew what was coming.

"She's my partner."

So it was a drinking game.

"Fine by me," Joe Toye commented dryly and shot her a smirk. He would regret that comment, she thought, and smiled innocently back at him.

"What are the bets?" Juliette asked. She looked between each of the men and crossed her arms, sizing them up. She thought that Joe would probably be their biggest competition - he was the biggest of all of them, after all.

"The winners don't have to pay for a single drink for the rest of the night," Thomas told her, and she nodded. She surmised that if the pair of them hadn't been competing it would probably have more likely been cigarettes they bet on, but the required physicality of their work meant that neither her nor Thomas smoked. He had made sure to give her an incentive to win, though, and she grinned at him.

"Hope you're ready to pay up double, Henry, 'cause I ain't havin' a broad payin' for my drinks," Bill drawled, puffing on his cigarette.

Juliette rolled her eyes. "Who said we're going to lose?"

"Oh, come on," Malarkey interjected with a smile, "you're smaller than Luz!"

"I'm not that short!" George protested.

Juliette smirked and leaned forwards onto the table. "What I'm hearing are a lot of reasons why you don't want me to compete. Scared, boys?"

"Yeah, in your dreams, doll," Bill replied, stomping out his cigarette and beginning to hand out the pints. "I'm with Malark, Joe's with Luz, and you two are gonna lose," he declared, passing Juliette her pint last.

"Boat race, right?" she asked. The boys nodded.

It was a tag-team version of who can down it first; little did the boys know that this game was all they'd played after they'd first graduated training. Tom and Juliette were veteran teammates. He shot her a subtle grin - he'd obviously orchestrated the whole affair.

"Bull!" Bill called, gesturing for the larger man to come over. "I'm trustin' you to judge this fairly. No special treatment just 'cause she's a broad, alright?"

"Alright," Bull agreed, standing back to get a full view of each of the teams. Each pair began discussing who would be going first, though all Tom and Juliette needed to do was share a nod. They'd done this a million times before.

She saw Martin and Will approach them from a little ways away, obviously having had their attention grabbed when Bill called Bull over, and they stood amongst the rest of the Americans ready to spectate. Juliette had to win this, if not for herself and Thomas then so that she wasn't relentlessly teased by Martin afterwards.

Bets were thrown around between the onlookers, most bartering money on Joe and George. A very select few took a chance on Tom and Juliette, namely Will and Johnny, and she smiled at them both when she'd heard them call it out.

"Ready?" Bull finally called. Each pair nodded, Tom and Juliette faced each other whereas the others chose to stand side-by-side. "Three, two, one, go!"

Thomas was the first to go on her team, George the first out of him and Joe, and Bill the first out of him and Don. Juliette kept her eyes locked on Tom and tuned out the cheers and jeers from the spectators, not sparing a glance to track the others' progress and trusting that Tom was fast enough to beat them.

By now, she didn't even have to encourage him, and whatever she shouted at him would no doubt only have served to slow him down. It was a mere few seconds but it always felt like forever that it took Thomas to finish off the pint, all the while nerves were bubbling in her stomach in the hopes she didn't mess this up.

As soon as Tom slammed his glass down onto the table she began to see her own pint off, tipping her head back and opening her throat so she could get as much liquid down at one time as possible, just as Tom had shown her all those years ago. It was almost second nature to her now.

The cacophony of the room was a mere buzzing in the background as she focused on draining her glass, eyes locked on the golden liquid until it was all gone. She slammed her glass down on the table to the sound of all hell breaking loose and grinned when Tom picked her up and spun her around.

"That's my girl! Just like I taught ya!"

"Holy shit!" she heard Don exclaim as soon as he'd slammed his glass down. He'd evidently been the last to finish. At the same time, she heard George shout out a 'what the fuck!'. Juliette merely laughed brightly as Thomas set her back down again, the victorious pair high-fiving with both hands before turning back to their dumbstruck competition.

"Legal drinking age is eighteen here, boys," Juliette told them with a smirk. "We've got years on the lot of you." She laughed as she watched Joe scowl and Bill mutter something incomprehensible which was no doubt rather foul.

Juliette saw Will and Johnny collecting their money from fellow betters and laughed once more when Tom pulled her into his side. She didn't know why she'd ever doubted herself.

"What are we drinking to celebrate?" he asked her. She shrugged, looking between the faces of the men gathered whilst they awaited her answer.

She looked back up at Thomas and laughed. "Whiskey?"

"What the fuck is in the water over here?" Joe asked, laughing a little bit through his astonished expression.

"Whatever it is I want some," Don replied. "How'd you do that?"

Juliette grinned at him. "Magic."

Just as Bill left to go to the bar Juliette felt a hand on the small of her back and turned to find a man she hadn't yet been introduced to, though he wore the same dress uniform as the other Americans. He was tall and thin but no less boyish than any of the others, and gave her a charming smile that spelled trouble.

"Where'd a girl like you learn to drink like that?"

Juliette shrugged. "A girl like me? Or just a girl, in general?" She was used to the 'you're not like other girls' remarks and was frankly rather sick of them.

The man smirked. "You know what I mean." The hand that rested on the small of her back slid across to her hip before being held out in front of her. "Joe Liebgott."

She put her hand in his to shake it though instead he brought it to his lips. She fought the eye roll. "Penny Williams." When her hand fell back to her side she asked him, "Your last name, is it German?"

His expression barely changed but his posture straightened. "Austrian, actually." _Ah_ , she thought, _so that's a touchy subject. Understandably._

"I see. Have you ever been?"

He shook his head. "I haven't. Have you?"

She shook her head as well, though this wasn't strictly true. But Penny Williams had no business leaving England, so for all intents and purposes she had never been. "No, but I've heard it's very pretty."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." The intensity of his gaze left no doubt in her mind that he was just as big a flirt as George and Floyd, though he played it differently. He was definitely more coy - less charming and more mysterious. "So, can I buy you a drink?"

"She's already got one, actually," Bill interrupted, passing her a small glass of whiskey and coming to stand beside her. When Juliette glanced to her other companions she found that they all had matching glasses to toast her and Tom's victory. She smiled and thanked him.

"Haven't you got a girl back in Philly, Bill?" Joe Liebgott asked, staring the other man down. Juliette didn't look at Bill but could guess he was staring back with equal ferocity.

"It's celebratory, actually," Juliette cut in, gesturing to the entirety of the group and all of their matching glasses. "Well, for some of us," she added, winking at Bill when he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, keep on braggin', sweetheart, we'll see who's laughin' tomorrow mornin'."

Juliette laughed, because honestly it was true enough. She looked back to Joe when she felt his intense gaze on the side of her face, and found him staring down at her with that same smirk again.

"Let me buy you the next one, then."

Juliette sighed, but smiled politely at him nonetheless. "That's very kind of you, but having just won a rather pricey bet I think I'd like to exploit the losers a little bit further. Thank you, though."

Joe brushed her away with a quick gesture of his hand. "Come on, one drink. And I won't take no for an answer."

Juliette looked up at him with a smile and a shrug. "Try."

Bill exploded into obnoxiously loud laughter and patted her firmly on the back, but she just saw Joe smirk down at her, his coyness turning to amusement. He turned from her without another word, but Juliette secretly thought that perhaps that meant she'd earned his respect.

"I like you, sweetheart," Bill was saying to her as Joe retreated. She turned back to the group once more as he slung an arm over her shoulders. Juliette laughed.

The group of six all clinked their glasses together before downing the whiskey in one, which Juliette seemed to be doing a lot of lately, and they all cheered when they came back up. She shared a grin with George, who was on her left, and laughed when Don immediately started asking what they were drinking next. The Americans were starting to grow on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some happy times to cure the angst :)


	21. To Keep a Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself." - George Orwell, 1984

The following day, Juliette awoke, as predicted, with a banging headache. Thomas was, and always had been, smug in his ability to avoid a hangover regardless of the obscene amounts of alcohol he consumed, but in trying to keep up with him whilst also being in possession of a much smaller, well, everything, Juliette always seemed to wake up with the very specific sensation of having been hit by a truck. She had never resented Thomas as much as she did that day, for in order to flaunt his lack of a hangover he made sure to march around downstairs and create as much noise as physically possible. Juliette might have thought that they had been caught and were thus being raided by the Nazis if not for Alexis' various shouts at him to be quiet.

After one particularly loud resounding crash, in which it sounded like he might have just dropped every single pot and pan they owned onto the kitchen tile simultaneously, Alexis had had enough, and even Juliette, ailing though she was, couldn't suppress her laugh.

"THOMAS!"

Juliette sat up on her bed and rubbed her eyes, blinking away the bleariness, before running a hand through her hair and venturing out of her room. She closed her door to find herself opposite Martin, who had obviously also had enough of trying to sleep through the commotion.

"I'm gonna kill that wanker," he told her with an entirely straight face. Juliette laughed.

"Make it as slow and painful as possible, please."

The pair ventured downstairs together, both still in their sleepwear, and found Alexis seated at the kitchen table with a newspaper, glaring at Thomas over the top of it whilst the other man rushed around to put whatever he'd destroyed in his noise-making back in its original place.

"Afternoon," Alexis greeted Juliette and Martin. She came to sit opposite him whilst Martin merely glared at Thomas.

"You're gonna get it, mate."

Thomas smiled innocently. "I don't think that's wise, actually, since I'm on grocery duty today."

Martin rolled his eyes. "Jules'll do it."

Here, Juliette guffawed. "No I won't!"

"Well, if Jules is doing it then -"

"I'm not doing it!"

"Jules -"

"- Thomas -"

" - Martin -"

"Oh my Christ, will you all just _shut up_!" Alexis shouted, standing up from his seat and slamming his newspaper down onto the table. "It's like living with children. No one's killing anyone and Thomas is doing the groceries. Jesus bloody Christ I can't take it anymore." And with that he sat back down again and resumed reading his paper.

Juliette, Thomas, and Martin all looked between each other with warning expressions, daring any of the others to speak up, though when the silence remained Thomas merely returned to clearing up the kitchen and Martin came to sit beside Juliette at the table. Juliette rested her head on her crossed forearms on the table.

"You've hurt my head, Alex," she moaned, squeezing her eyes tight shut.

Alexis rolled his eyes but made no reply.

"Where's the booklet?" Thomas asked a while later, "I suppose I may as well go out for the shopping now." The booklet was government-issued and had to be taken to the supermarket in order to receive the correct rationing of supplies. The rationing wasn't nearly so bad now as it had been three years prior, in 1940, but it was still quite substantial what with the U-boats blowing up every British supply ship they found in the Channel. It was almost exactly what they British had done to the Germans during the Great War, though it was far less morale-boosting to be on the other, more unfortunate end.

Alexis retrieved the booklet out of a drawer for Thomas and handed it to him in silence before resuming his position at the table. When the fair-haired man passed Juliette on his way to the front door he ruffled her hair affectionately, though she didn't react and instead waited for the sound of the front door opening and slamming closed again, flinching even so when she heard it. For an undercover specialist, he really did seem to have quite a difficult time not slamming doors.

"Have you had any water yet today?" Alexis asked, obviously noticing her flinch. Only then did Juliette raise her head from the table.

"No," she mumbled, beginning to massage her temples.

Alexis was on his feet and at the tap faster than she could even register, and before she knew it there was a glass of water on the table before her. She thanked him and downed it almost as fast as she had done her pint in the boat race the night before, smiling slightly at the memory.

"Tom and I won another boat race last night," she told him once she'd finished the glass, watching as a smile seemed to want so badly to spread across Alexis' lips. "It's okay, Alex, you're allowed to smile. I promise I won't take it as you condoning my actions."

Alexis merely rolled his eyes. "No doubt said boat race is the cause of your headache this morning. I hope it was worth it."

Juliette grinned. "Oh, it was definitely worth it. Besides, it was more likely the shots of whiskey than the beer." She laughed at Alex's expression. "You should come next time. The yanks are rather fun, actually, though if you tell a single one of them I said that I'll kill you on site."

"You'd blow your cover," Alexis commented drily. She shrugged.

"They probably still wouldn't work it out."

Martin laughed and she grinned. After a short pause she said, "You know, Alex, you don't always have to be our CO. Sometimes you can just be our friend."

Alexis averted his eyes back down to his newspaper. "I can't be both?"

Juliette sighed. "You are both, and you know it, but you don't always have to be on us about work. Surely it's exhausting to think of nothing else."

"You should come with us next time," Martin reiterated. Alexis didn't look up though Juliette hoped he was actually considering it. She wondered what he even did with all the time he spent on his own in the house. "Jules could use someone more vigilant to keep an eye on her, really," Martin added, knowing this was the bargaining chip that would sway Alexis in their direction.

Juliette rolled her eyes. "Not true."

Alexis smiled slightly, rolling his eyes though never once looking up from the paper. "Maybe."

"Is that a yes?" Juliette grinned.

He huffed, but was smiling more openly now. "It's a maybe."


	22. Not So Scarce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world." - L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

"Heard you, uh, beat some'a the guys in a drinkin' contest," Eugene spoke into the short silence that had fallen. He had come across Juliette wandering along the outskirts of the village; she had been walking, lost in thought, for so long that she hadn't even realised she'd reached the opposite side, right where the army's medical tents were set up.

Juliette giggled, swinging her legs where they hung off of the table she perched on whilst she watched him roll bandages. "Beat? More like slaughtered. Henry and I absolutely obliterated them, Gene. Destroyed them."

"Destroyed their pride, more like," Eugene commented drily. He shot Juliette a small smile when he heard her laugh. "They've been goin' on and on about it since."

"Why weren't you there?" she wondered, rolling the fabric of the skirt of her dress between two fingers. She had just been sent a new one, which was technically supposed to be reserved for missions, but it was so different to what she was used to she was desperate to wear it just once before it likely got blood all over it in the field and was rendered useless. It was patterned with cherries which matched her lipstick, and when she wore it she felt like the young woman her younger self had imagined she'd become. It was a feeling that filled her with an unexplainable warmth.

Eugene shrugged. "I was on inventory for the night. Sad to have missed it considerin' everythin' I hear went down."

Juliette tilted her head as she watched him pick up more bandages to roll. "What is it you hear 'went down'?" she asked, before sighing abruptly. "Gene, will you really not let me help? I have two hands, a pair of eyes, and an, admittedly, below-average amount of common sense, but I'm sure I can roll some bandages."

Eugene rolled his eyes. "If someone comes in here and catches me slackin' off and lettin' you do my job I'll get in more trouble than it's worth." He sent her a pointed look which shut her up and went back to his work. "Anyway, heard you rejected Liebgott. It's basically all Guarnere can talk about."

Juliette hummed. "Do they not get along? Bill and Joe?"

Eugene shrugged. "They run in different circles. There was an incident on the ship on the way here, though. They had a fight over somethin' and I guess they've not talked that much since."

"Both big characters?" she wondered.

Eugene laughed and hummed his affirmation. "Mm-hm."

"Who's your best friend in the company?" Juliette then asked. She took the time to glance around at the tent and see what they had. No one on her team was a medical specialist but they had had to learn some of the basics in training in case anything should happen in the field. She'd had to remove bullets and wrap wounds more often than she'd have liked to admit, so she was interested to see what materials were generally considered appropriate to do those things with.

Meanwhile, Eugene paused before finally shrugging. "I, uh, I try not to get too close. I'm gonna have to save their lives one day, wanna make sure I'm not so sentimental that I can't do my job."

Juliette nodded her understanding, sad though the sentiment was. Perhaps, she thought, that was why he'd allowed her so close; she was a friend he could have without the worry that one day she'd be dying in his arms and he would be the one solely responsible for saving her life. She smiled to think that their friendship was mutually beneficial, as thus far she had only considered herself to be the one getting anything out of it.

"You're going to make a brilliant medic, Gene," she told him sincerely, reading how difficult he was finding it in his expression. He tried to hide it, but she'd gotten good at reading people from being undercover for so long. "You're going to do a lot of good in the war."

Eugene sent her a smile but didn't say any more, and they fell into a comfortable silence for a while.

A little while later Juliette decided to start heading back to the house lest Alexis should come out looking for her, and opted for the faster route through the village centre instead of the more scenic route around its circumference. She was taking in the buzz of activity in the main square when someone came up beside her.

"How's the headache?"

She sent George a grin. "It seems to have returned all of a sudden, actually."

George only laughed. "You're real cute when you insult me. Do it again."

Juliette rolled her eyes whilst George went on, ever the chatterbox, talking a mile a minute about this conversation he'd had and that old man he'd met. She tried desperately to keep up before deciding to let him wear himself out.

"God, do you have a lengthy internal monologue," she eventually commented when he paused for breath. He laughed brightly.

"Yeah, I can talk almost better than I can do anything else. My mom used to make me play the 'be quiet' game all the time as a kid."

Juliette laughed. "My mum did the same when I was little, funnily enough. That's an obscure memory you've awoken, there."

George grinned. "Those are the best kind." He looked from her to across the way and his eyes seemed to catch on something of interest, for he turned back to her with mischief on his face. "So, I saw you makin' eyes at one Floyd Talbert across the bar the other night."

Juliette almost choked on her intake of breath. "What?!"

George only laughed. "You heard. And don't try and deny it, now, I saw it with my own two eyes."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "I was not making 'eyes' at all! He was the first of you lot that I met, is all, so I was just smiling at him."

Much to her annoyance he seemed exceedingly pleased with himself at the reaction he'd gotten out of her. "Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, doll."

"I'm allowed to smile at people, George," she told him.

He shrugged. "Never said you weren't."

"Oh, sod off, would you?"

"Well if I wasn't sure before I sure am now. You're gettin' awful defensive." He was grinning practically from ear to ear. 

"Why are you so intent on proving to yourself that I fancy Floyd? I thought we were engaged, George."

George over-exaggerated a whimsical sigh. "Yeah, well, you have scary friends. I'm gonna start turning my attentions onto less dangerous targets."

Now it was Juliette who grinned. "On, say, a certain redheaded barmaid, for instance?" He wasn't the only one who had been keeping tabs on the room that night at the pub; it was a habit she'd been taught to adopt in training, and she had certainly noticed his attention flicking to Mary more frequently than could be regarded as purely coincidental.

"Why, did she say somethin' to you?"

"Aha! Who's making eyes now?"

"'Aha'?" he imitated her, rather accurately she would never admit. "What are you, a detective?"

"A spy," she corrected. He laughed, she smirked. Oh, the irony. "Anyway, don't change the subject. You fancy Mary, no?"

"'Fancy'," he mocked with a smirk. "What is it with you Brits and 'fancy'?"

"What is it with you yanks and just saying 'like'? It's so ambiguous. I know which verb I'd prefer and it's the one that leaves no room for confusion. Now answer the question, George."

He shrugged. "Sure, I think she's cute. But don't go sayin' anything to her - mystery is part of my charm."

Juliette snorted. "Mystery? George, you just rattled off everything you did in the three days I didn't see you in such vivid detail I feel like everything you said is my own memory."

"Right, well, you're a girl -"

"How nice of you to notice."

"Yeah, I'm full of compliments. So, what do you think? How should I approach this?"

Juliette laughed. "This next piece of advice I give you is going to change your life. I will single-handedly ensure that every relationship you have henceforth will last longer than any you've had previously, okay?"

"Right."

"Be yourself."

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck would I do that for?"

Juliette burst into giggles and George stopped to wait for her whilst she tried to get ahold of herself, smiling brightly as he watched her all the while. When, eventually, she had her giggles back under control, they carried on walking.

"You'll have to just trust me on this one, okay? But don't come on too strong," Juliette advised him. She watched his profile as he furrowed his eyebrows comically.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She laughed and put on her best American accent, deepening her voice all the while, "'Hi, I'm George Luz and I'm gonna marry you someday!' - That is what you said, isn't it?"

George was laughing when she looked back at him. "That impression was so bad. Oh my God, that was so bad."

"That wasn't my point! I'm trying to help you here!" Juliette exclaimed, exasperated. Then she huffed out a sigh. "Right, next time you go to the pub let me know and I'll brief you. Don't look at me like that, I'm the closest you're going to get to knowing what's actually going to woo her."

"Did you just say 'woo'?"

Juliette looked up to the sky dramatically. "Lord, give me the strength not to punch this man in the face, amen."

George laughed. "Alright. But next time we go out you're coming too. No excuses. And I'll put in a good word with Tab for ya." He winked.

"You better not!" Juliette exclaimed and smacked him lightly on the arm. When he laughed loudly she hit him again. "George!" He just kept on laughing, though, and she watched him walk away with an amused grin growing slowly on her face too.


	23. He Who Does Not Weep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He who does not weep does not see." - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Juliette was nowhere to be found when George tried to seek her out to let her know of the Americans' next pub outing. Funnily enough, neither was Thomas. Or William. Or even Martin. George found it strange that they had all seemingly dropped off of the face of the earth on this one particular day when he'd seen all of them the day before. He didn't think much of it, deciding that someone else would no doubt see them before evening came and he could talk to Juliette once they were there about how he was going to 'woo', as she had said, the barmaid.

Meanwhile, Juliette paced back and forth in an old apartment in the centre of Bordeaux, France. She was due to leave in the next ten minutes to intercept a German courier. The waiting was always the worst part.

"How does it feel to be back home, Jules?" Thomas asked, watched her amusedly from his position by the window. "Back where it all began."

She rolled her eyes. "Bordeaux hasn't been home since I was eleven. But it's strange, nonetheless." And it really was. The street their safe house was on was one she had walked frequently on her way to school as a girl, and being back was jarring in a way she hadn't expected. She felt like a ghost haunting the former version of herself, who had died not when she left Bordeaux but with the outbreak of war. There was something disjointed about being back in a place she had left behind as such a different person. Something almost unsettling.

William was using the tapper on his briefcase radio to transmit back to their HQ whilst Alexis and Thomas watched the windows. Martin was lounging in an armchair beside the door, tapping his foot to music that was inaudible to everyone but him.

The minutes passed remarkably slowly and just when Juliette was about to tell Martin to 'stop, for the love of God, tapping that bloody foot' Alexis turned back to her. "Time to go, Juliette."

She nodded, and left the apartment to quiet calls of good luck.

Juliette found the German courier quickly and easily, wearing clothing much the same as hers; a red beret, a blue dress, with a black handbag. She was sat reading a book in the waiting area of a train station, though with the hour of the morning she was one of only five people there. Juliette said the code words in perfectly accented German before telling her that one of the men in the station was an Allied spy and thus their exchange would have to take place elsewhere for security purposes. When they got into the women's restrooms Juliette cut her throat before taking the woman's bag and locking her into one of the stalls. Juliette replaced the intel the woman had been carrying with her own fake intel, slipping the real envelope into the waistband of her underwear, before emerging from the restrooms as though nothing had happened, having been careful to keep the blood only on the courier.

The intel swap which took place afterwards went smoothly; she was wearing the clothes the German spy had been informed the courier would be wearing, was reading the book he had been told she'd be reading, and was sitting exactly where he'd been told she'd be sitting. As soon as their envelopes were exchanged, both addressed to French civilians who didn't exist, Juliette left first, and assumedly the spy did afterwards.

When she got back to the safe house she gave Alexis both envelopes and waited to find out what intel she'd gotten them.

Alexis looked carefully at the contents of both before addressing them. "The first is information on a suspected German double agent, so well done, Juliette, you've just made sure one more German spy can carry on working for us. The second is the train timetable we wanted. The one we're after is set to stop at the station in about two hours' time. It will stay there for ten minutes whilst they service it and that'll be our window. We'll plant the bombs disguised as the maintenance team. William?"

"With the timer I've got them on they'll detonate about ten minutes after departure, just outside of the city."

"And that's a whole lot of U-boats that don't get their missiles," Thomas added with a grin.

Juliette smiled. "And a whole lot of soldiers who get to see another sunset."

"About one thousand three hundred, I reckon," added Martin. They shared a smile.

The team made quick work of finding and kidnapping the train's maintenance team, putting bags over their hostages' heads so that their identities weren't compromised, stripping them of their uniforms, and tying them up in a warehouse they'd found. They quickly got changed into the jumpsuits they'd been wearing, each placing one of Will's handmade coal torpedoes into their duffel bags; it was likely that they would be searched before being allowed onto the train what with its importance, so having bombs disguised as the coal they would be shovelling into the train's firebox would mean that they arose no suspicion. Their work orders were found on one of the men they had kidnapped, and thus they were all set.

Juliette caught William fiddling with the necklace they all wore when he was on watch at one of the windows, waiting in silence for the time to come. Her heart tightened. Will went undercover the least of all of them; oftentimes he would be set up in a safe house, keeping an eye on the streets below for raids and listening in on radio traffic to get any intel he could. This time, however, due to the nature of the mission and the fact that he needed to be there in case any of the bombs failed to detonate, he had to be with them.

The necklaces they all wore had chains similar to the standard-issue military dog tags, however instead of carrying a means of identification in case of death, they carried the escape route they were to take in case they should be identified: the lethal pill they were supposed to take in the event of being caught.

_A spy can never be taken alive._

It was what Claudette was supposed to have taken back in Paris, and when she hadn't Juliette had had to step in. She wondered whether Will was worrying about whether he would be able to do it in the event he got caught. She was certain that, above all, Will was just worrying about being caught.

Being in the field undercover was terrifying before you got used to it, and sometimes even after, and Will had had to go undercover maybe ten or eleven times by Juliette's estimation. This wasn't nearly enough times to get used to the anxiety and the high-stakes nature of the work, especially given that the gaps between each undercover mission he was on ranged from three months to a whole year. Watching him she thought he looked probably rather similar to how she looked at the beginning, when she was fresh out of training and first beginning to realise that it wasn't all a game and that they weren't playing at being spies. Being undercover in the field meant life and death, and she had had to learn that the hard way very early on.

Juliette pushed those memories to the back of her mind and approached Will carefully, placing a hand on his shoulder gently which nonetheless made him jolt in place. His head whipped around with wide eyes before calming at the sight of her soft smile. "Sorry," he muttered through an exhale. He turned back to the window and dropped the hand from his necklace.

"It's okay to be afraid, Will," she told him quietly; she thought that he would probably rather that the others didn't overhear. "But nothing's going to happen, okay? With all of us there it's so much less likely to go wrong. Just focus on your job, okay?"

Will sucked in a breath and nodded. "Okay."

She smiled and nudged him in the arm. "Besides, Tom and I are the best undercover agents currently operating. You trust us, don't you? We'll make sure you're in and out before anyone notices."

At this Will actually did crack a smile and he nodded again. "Yes. Yeah. I know. Thank you."

She smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze before moving away to focus on her own job. She really had to make sure no one suspected anything, and knowing that Will was so worried made her eagerness to do this only more intense. She couldn't let him down. No one would be using those pills today.


	24. Unable are the Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Unable are the Loved to die  
> For Love is Immortality..."  
> \- Emily Dickinson, Unable are the Loved to Die

Alexis slammed the front door of their house open with his shoulder as soon as he'd gotten it unlocked. Having to parachute back into England in broad daylight was less than ideal. Having to make their truck take the long way back to Aldbourne to avoid civilians lost them valuable time. The clock on the living room wall ticked away the seconds faster than they could even count them. They were running out of time.

"Put her on the sofa!" Alexis demanded. Juliette shook her head as adamantly as she was able from her place in Martin's arms.

"No! I'll stain it. We won't be able to explain away a blood stain if someone ever comes in."

"Use the kitchen table," Alexis then ordered. He barrelled through the door to the kitchen with unrivalled ferocity, sweeping everything off of the kitchen table in one fell swoop. Martin lowered Juliette onto its surface gently with the help of Thomas and William. She clutched at her side with a groan at the movement.

"Oh, God, Jules, it's bleeding so much," Thomas moaned. He began pressing his hands on top of hers with a desperate, clumsy fervour.

"Alex! What do we do?" William shouted, running a hand quickly through his hair. All he could do was watch as Juliette writhed and shook on the table whilst Thomas tried to apply as much pressure to the main wound as possible, Martin attempting to get her to hold still. 

Alexis stood off to the side watching in horror. He didn't know what to do. The medical training they'd had had been an awfully long time ago, and Juliette was usually the one to handle all of the wounds. Besides, he was sure they hadn't taught them what to do when what seemed like thousands of pieces of grenade shrapnel were buried in the patient. Oh, God, she was bleeding so much.

"We need a hospital," he finally decided, his voice firm.

Juliette lurched upwards from her horizontal position, though Martin gave her a firm shove back down. "No! You won't be able to explain it!" She paused as another tidal wave of pain crashed over her, forcing her eyes tight shut. She went limp for a few seconds on the wooden table.

Finally, she looked at Thomas with eyebrows furrowed and her mouth drawn into a frown. "You'll have to get Gene."

"Jules -" Will cut in, but Thomas shook his head.

"It's our only choice! We're all out of options, Will!"

"Who's Gene?" Alexis asked urgently.

"He's a medic for the paratroopers," Thomas explained. Juliette found Alex's eyes desperately.

"He's a friend," she told him. Alexis' inner turmoil was written plainly on his face. "We can trust him, Alex. I know we can."

"It's too risky -"

"Do you have a better idea?!"

"How do we know -"

"Thomas, do you know where to find him?" Alexis cut them all off, watching with thinly veiled terror as blood started to dot on Juliette's pale lips.

"Yes."

"Go."

Juliette couldn't have told you how long Thomas had been gone; it could have been thirty seconds or an entire year and she wouldn't have known any different. She also couldn't have told you a single thing that had happened in his absence, though when he returned she had a pillow under her head and both Martin and William were holding her hands, one on either side of her as though protecting her from any further injury.

Thomas rushed into the kitchen with a very confused American medic right on his tail. Eugene had a hastily scrounged-together med kit in his hand and his perplexity at the entire situation written clearly on his face. When he saw Juliette lying on the kitchen table in a pool of her own blood his jaw fell open in shock.

"What the hell happened?"

"Can you help her?" Alex demanded. He looked to Thomas who shook his head to let him know that he'd told the American nothing.

"What's goin' on?"

"Can you help her?!" Alexis bellowed. Eugene decided to stop asking questions and start trying to work out for himself what had happened to get Juliette into such a state.

"Has she had any medication?" he asked, looking her over and peering hesitantly under the neckline of her shirt.

"Morphine. A couple of hours ago though. Think it's worn off," Thomas replied. Eugene nodded.

"Just her stomach?" he asked. William rolled up the hem of her shirt to show him the full extent of the damage.

"Yeah, just across the stomach," Thomas confirmed.

Juliette was groaning louder now. Eugene opened his bag and quickly injected morphine into her hip. She quietened almost immediately. Her eyes cracked open as he began to scan the various holes and gashes across her abdomen.

"Gene?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse but gentle as she looked at the medic with glazed-over eyes. In her bleary state she didn't even question for a second what he was doing there, just accepted it as though there was nowhere else she'd expect him to be at that moment.

"Hey, Penny," he told her. He offered a quick, small smile, before turning to Thomas. "I need to get it out. Hold her down." Then he turned back to Juliette. "This is gonna hurt, okay, chérie?"

Juliette nodded absentmindedly. "You speak French?"

Eugene didn't answer and instead focused on pulling out the largest piece of metal stuck in her side as carefully as he was able, all the while Juliette was fighting against all of the arms holding her down. Even with the morphine it was pure agony. He removed it and got to work on the smaller pieces immediately.

"You're doin' real good, chérie, just keep holdin' on," he murmured. He was now using his tweezers to remove some of the smaller bits of metal.

Juliette smiled slightly. "My papa used to call me 'bijou' when I was little," she recalled quietly, barely feeling anything by now. "My mum was the only one who spoke to me in English." She gasped when he pulled out another large piece of shrapnel. "I can't breathe, Gene."

"Hey, you're gonna be just fine," he assured her, shooting her one worried glance before getting back to work. He looked up at the others. "I need to know what this is. There's so much of it I need to know what the internal damage might be."

The men all shared a look before Alexis nodded once at Thomas.

"Grenade," Tom said simply. If Eugene was shocked by the answer it didn't show on his face. He turned back to her quickly and began working with more haste than before.

"If there's internal bleedin' there ain't much I can do," he said. "You should take 'er to -"

"We can't," Alexis told him sternly, almost coldly. "No one else can know. Do everything you can."

"Please help her," William whimpered. It was only then that any of them noticed the tears that were streaming down his face as he held on to her hand.

"Keep her talkin'," Gene directed. He began pouring sulfa on the wounds he'd already checked and moving on to the ones he hadn't.

"Hey, Penny, how're you doing?" William began tentatively, still using her fake name even though it was largely redundant at this point.

"Really, mate?" Martin asked at the triviality of his question. Juliette laughed softly.

"I'm okay. It hurts."

"You're almost done," Gene told her, glancing up at her once before continuing to pour sulfa anywhere he could. "You're doin' great."

"Talk to me in French," she muttered sleepily, her eyes beginning to close. "Feels like home."

"Hey, hey, hey, eyes open," he told her. Martin shook her shoulders to make her eyes open again. 

"I'm sorry."

Martin laughed lightly, but there was a discernible melancholy to it. "Don't be sorry, just do as you're told, okay?

Juliette laughed and then gasped again. "Doing as I'm told is not one of my virtues." Her words emerged choked.

When she drew in another shaky breath Gene looked up at the others sharply. "Sit her up. I think she's chokin' on her own blood."

When they sat her upright her head lolled forwards momentarily before she forced it back up, but had to settle for it tilting towards her left shoulder. She felt so tired. Exhausted, really.

"Wounds are clean. I got everythin' out and I bandaged her up," Eugene told the men. They all watched cautiously as Juliette fought to keep her eyes open.

"What's wrong with her then?" Martin demanded, looking to the younger man urgently.

Eugene huffed out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know. Could be the morphine makin' her drowsy." When his eyes fell to his med bag once more, hanging off of the back of one of the dining chairs, he sucked in a harsh breath. "Unless she's goin' into shock."

"Is that bad?" Will asked. No one replied as they watched the medic rifle hurriedly through his bag before pulling out a syrette.

He readied it in record time before injecting it into her chest, right over where her heart would be, and all of a sudden her eyes shot open. She gasped once more, however this time it wasn't out of pain but instead a need for air. She kept on gasping until eventually her breathing slowed into a natural rhythm.

Eventually, her breathing went back to normal, and she didn't feel so tired anymore. She looked up at all of the men around her with a small laugh.

"One down, eight more to go."

Thomas laughed, more out of relief than amusement, and shook his head. "That's not funny."

She laughed. "Tough crowd."

An inaudible sigh of relief seemed to travel through the room, everyone's shoulders falling at the exact same moment. The men all looked between each other and, in spite of themselves, began to laugh - even Will, who still had tear tracks drying on his face. Eugene took a step back from the table and watched Juliette with a calculated gaze. Her eyes fell on him and she offered a sheepish smile.

"Don't suppose you're willing to just forget this ever happened?"

He rolled his eyes but was smiling slightly. "Not a chance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thought i'd give you 4, because why not, so i hope you like them <3


	25. In the Contrast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast." - Charles Dickens, The Village Coquettes

There were no two ways around it. They were going to have to tell Gene.

Juliette looked up at Alexis from where she was still seated on the kitchen table and saw the conflict in his face. He gave Juliette one look and a small nod and swiftly left the kitchen. The sounds of his footsteps up the stairs were almost deafening in the silence that had fallen.

There was another long pause, everyone waiting for someone else to be the first to speak, before Martin finally cleared his throat. "Well, um, I'll be off then. Places to be, people to see and all that." He patted Gene on the shoulder as he passed him on his way to the kitchen door. "Pleasure to meet you, mate." He must have run through the living room once he was out of sight because the front door slammed behind him in record time. Juliette fought the laugh that threatened to bubble up at all costs.

"You know what? Me too, actually. I'm a uh -" Will's words broke off when he glanced at Tom, who was all but pleading with his eyes for him to stay. Avoiding eye contact, Will rushed out in one breath, "verybusyguythesedays." And then he was gone too.

Juliette risked an experimental glance up at Gene and found his eyes on her, his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, deep in thought. Then she looked at Thomas.

"Are you going too or are you staying to help me explain this?" Juliette asked. He made a pained face.

"Don't phrase it like that. Makes me seem like a bastard if I leave."

Juliette grinned but when she heard Gene's intake of breath as though he was about to say something the smile fell. She honestly had no idea how they were going to talk their way out of this one.

There was a pause in which Gene looked between the pair of them before he opened his mouth to speak once more, and then didn't. This happened a few times before Juliette finally sighed and just decided to ask and get it over with. "What do you want to ask?"

"Obviously we can't tell you everything," Tom interjected, and then shrugged. "But some things I'm sure you've already worked out."

Gene looked between them both a few more times with eyebrows furrowed so tightly together Juliette wondered whether they'd ever be able to separate again. Eventually, he exhaled and nodded as if deciding on what he wanted to ask. "Are you..?" he trailed off. His eyes darted to the blood on the kitchen table. The implication was clear.

"Are we..?" Tom replied, leaning forwards gradually as he dragged out the final word.

Juliette looked up at Gene in anticipation, hoping that whatever conclusion he'd drawn would get them out of the hole they'd dug themselves into without them having to reveal anything.

He searched for a conclusion to draw and came up empty, so eventually Juliette took pity on him and decided to just rip the plaster off. "Spies," she finished for him.

"Allied," Tom told him quickly. Juliette's head shot back up from where she'd let it drop, wondering whether they'd given Gene the wrong impression. After analysing his expression she decided that Tom was just being safe. "But yes. Spies."

Eugene nodded. Juliette had never been more grateful that he never seemed to ask many questions.

He didn't ask anything else, just looked around the kitchen contemplatively, and finally Juliette tugged on his sleeve. "Look, Gene, you can't tell anyone, okay? Not a soul. None of the boys. Not your family in your letters home. Not even if you visit home. Okay? No one on the planet can know."

Gene nodded immediately. "Yeah, I gotcha."

"If you talk you'll be executed," Thomas added for good measure. Juliette shot him a look. "I'm just saying. Not like it isn't true."

"I won't say anythin'," Gene promised. He was looking at Tom in that way that Juliette had become fond of; she wasn't even sure he knew he was doing it, but whenever he looked at someone that way they just couldn't help but trust him. It was something in his eyes, she thought. Those gentle blue eyes. He turned them on Juliette next. "You gotta be careful though, alright? Army'll start wonderin' where all their medical supplies are goin' if I have to keep patchin' you up."

"You won't hear a peep out of us again, Gene. Promise." Then she smiled at him. "And thank you, by the way. It was kind of you to come."

Gene just nodded and ducked away from her gaze, settling his eyes on the sofa through the window of the door to the living room. "Alright. I think we need to get you somewhere more comfortable. The adrenaline'll keep you awake for a while but after that you're gonna crash."

"I'll get blood everywhere," she objected, but Gene would hear none of it.

Tom sighed. "Lets get her into bed. At least if she stains it it won't be the first thing people see upon entering the house." Then he shot her a mischievous grin. "Besides, she's a girl. We can just say it's -"

"Wow, you're funny," Juliette deadpanned, cutting him off strategically if only to spare Gene the raging blush that was already sneaking its way up from his neck and blossoming into his cheeks.

"Oh, do you really think so?" Tom asked with faux-modesty, pressing a hand to his heart. Juliette rolled her eyes.

Jules tried her very best to keep as quiet as she could when Tom carried her up the stairs, Gene right behind them just in case anything happened; she didn't want to over-exaggerate the pain, even though it did still hurt something fierce. By the time she was lain on her bed her eyes were squeezed tight shut, though all the tension left her body the moment she hit the sheets. She was still wide awake but it felt good to lie down.

"How long will I be out for?" she asked. Gene shrugged.

"Probably about a day. Your body's gonna wanna focus on gettin' you to heal." Then he turned to Thomas. "If it's any longer than a day and a half come get me, alright? I can't promise I'll be able to do anythin' more than take a look but that's the best I got."

"Thank you, Gene. Really," Juliette cut in. He nodded to her with a small smile once more.

Thomas saw him out, though there was a substantial pause between the sound of them getting to the bottom of the stairs and the sound of the front door closing. Juliette guessed that Thomas was thanking Gene as well, which made her smile.

When Tom came back upstairs he resolved to lean on the doorframe and watch her from there for a moment before she looked over and quirked an eyebrow. "Something worth looking at?" she wondered with a teasing smile. He rolled his eyes.

"You gave us quite the scare," he told her, a small smile coming to rest on his lips. He paused for a moment before coming to sit on the edge of her bed. "I'm glad you're alive, Jules."

She smiled. "Me too." Then something dawned on her and she took ahold of his hand. "Hey, when you next see Will can you tell him that it wasn't his fault?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah, I'll make sure he knows. Don't worry yourself, okay?"

"Okay."

And just like he always did when she had been having a rough time, Tom sat on the floor next to her bed and waited for her to fall asleep. It took longer this time, for the adrenaline made her chatty and the talking distracted her from trying to sleep, but he indulged every one of her conversation topics nonetheless. Eventually, though, her words began to slur and her replies started to come slower. He looked up to find her sleeping peacefully, eyes closed and looking for all the world like she was perfectly healthy.

Tom glanced down at where he knew her stomach would be under the sheets and sucked in a deep breath, nodding to himself in reassurance. She was okay. It had been a close call, but she was okay.

He paused by the door once he'd decided to leave her, turning back briefly to glance over his shoulder. For the first time in months he had really had to acknowledge their own mortality. Being in the field constantly and getting lucky near misses made death seem like something implausible, even though he had seen agents die before. After seeing Jules so close to it herself, he was reminded that the survival rate of agents in the field was only 50%.

How were any of them still alive after all this time? He honestly didn't know.


	26. A Star Riding Through Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'." - Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Juliette awoke disoriented, to the best sound in the world; her friends.

"Who the bloody hell did the laundry?!"

She didn't hear what the reply was, but Martin's enraged voice soon erupted up through the floorboards once again.

"My shirt is pink, William. My _white_ shirt. Is pink. William."

"How's it white if it's pink?" she heard Thomas call down from what sounded like the stairs. She stifled a laugh. Those were her boys alright.

After waiting a few more minutes to blink away the bleariness Juliette carefully rolled onto her side to push herself up into a seated position, and waited until her side wasn't burning anymore. It was frustrating how long it took her to hobble her way to the door, but thankfully the bathroom was the room next to hers. If it had taken her much longer to get there she wasn't sure she'd have made it; sleeping for what she assumed was a full day meant that her bladder felt full-to-bursting.

When she was finished she opened the bathroom door again to find all four men gathered in the hallway outside, waiting for her. She paused in her step and quirked an eyebrow at them. "Am I supposed to take a bow or..?"

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Alexis told her sternly.

"I needed the toilet!" she protested, throwing her arms up in her exasperation.

"Then call one of us to help you," Martin told her.

"No offence, lads, but I'd rather die."

"I don't mean _in_ the actual toilet!" Martin exclaimed. A horrified expression appeared on his face as realisation of her assumption dawned on him. "Jesus!"

Martin guided her back to her room and helped her lay down again, making sure she was comfortable before sitting back and looking down at her.

She fidgeted slightly under his gaze. "What?"

"I'm trying to decide whether you can be trusted to be left on your own," he told her, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he contemplated it.

She sighed. "I can. I'll get bored really quickly though," she admitted with a half-shrug. He laughed.

"Well, there's not much I can do in the way of visitors. I'll see what I can do about some books though."

She beamed. "Really?! Thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah." He brushed her away. "The yanks were looking for us whilst we were in Bordeaux, apparently," he then told her. He glanced up at the window for a moment before rising to his feet and crossing the room to open the curtains. Light came flooding in immediately and Juliette had to squint against it for a few moments whilst her eyes adjusted. Martin gazed down at the street below before coming to sit back on the bed again. "They wanted to know why we dropped off the face of the planet for a couple of days."

Juliette laughed. "I suppose they were looking to go to the pub again?"

Martin smiled and nodded. "They want us to go again tonight but Tom's declined on our behalf, for obvious reasons."

Jules frowned. "Don't miss out on my account. I'll be fine." Martin raised his eyebrows at her and she smiled, amused. "Plus, I wouldn't put it past Alex to not be wanting to go. He'll be around if I need him."

"Even so, we're not gonna go out without you, are we?"

"Why not?" she challenged, crossing her arms.

Martin laughed. "What, we're all gonna go out on the piss while you're sat in bed at home reading books with about fifty holes in your stomach? Fat chance."

Juliette rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't see why my condition is any reason for everyone to be on house arrest. I reckon if anything you'd better go otherwise we'll arise suspicion."

There was a knock at the bedroom door and Martin shot her a look. "This conversation isn't over," he promised.

Juliette laughed and watched him leave, Tom leading Gene in in his place.

"Gene!" she exclaimed upon his entering, not having expected the American medic to be her next visitor.

"Hey, chérie," he smiled. He lingered by the door as Tom shut it behind him.

"What am I? The poor orphan boy you've taken into your home as a servant?" Tom asked. Juliette rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

"How you feelin'?" Eugene inquired. He approached the bed tentatively and scanned all of the visible parts of her for ailment. She smiled.

"Better. Hurts to move but other than that it's not giving me any grief."

"Good. That's good. Can I take a look?" He gestured to her stomach and she nodded, sitting up with Tom's help and lifting up the hem of her shirt.

Gene gingerly peeled back the bandages and nodded to himself, murmuring things Juliette couldn't make out as he made his way from left to right across the wounds to check the healing.

"Looks good," he told her. Relief was evident in his face, and he nodded once to Tom who stood on the other side of the bed. "No signs of infection and they're healin' well."

As he began to change her bandages a thought dawned on Jules. "Hey, Gene?"

"Hm?"

"Am I your first patient?"

He rolled his eyes and didn't look up from his work, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. Y'are. But don't be proud of it."

"Oh, I'm _very_ proud of it," she retorted with a triumphant smile. "I'm like work experience for you, no?"

Gene shook his head but he was chuckling to himself as he continued to bandage up her wounds. Juliette saw this as a complete win.

"So, you speak French?" she spoke up into the silence that followed. She felt slightly awkward with both Gene and Tom staring down at her.

Gene nodded and glanced up at her face briefly before continuing his work. "Yeah. Half-Cajun." He paused, seeming to contemplate whether or not he should say what he was going to say next. Finally, he cleared his throat and studiously avoided her eyes whilst paying particularly close attention to the bandages. "You're French, huh?"

Juliette looked to Thomas, who shrugged. There was no point in trying to deny it now, not after what she'd said whilst on the morphine.

"Yeah," she admitted, looking to the window and closing her eyes against the sunlight. "Born in Bordeaux, moved to England when I was eleven. Though for all intents and purposes I was born and bred in Aldbourne, okay?"

Gene laughed quietly. "Yeah, I gotcha. No one on the planet or I'm executed and all that."

This earned a laugh out of both Tom and Jules, and Gene smiled to himself as he carried on working.

"Do you miss France?" he wondered, watching her in his periphery.

Juliette shrugged. "Difficult to miss it when I'm there so often."

Realisation dawned on his face. "That's where you got these, huh?" He gestured to the wounds.

She nodded and shrugged. "Occupational hazard." Thomas snorted.

A short silence fell over the trio as Eugene finished bandaging her up. When he was finished he sat back on the bed and Juliette pulled her shirt back down again. Gene's eyebrows were furrowed, as they so often were, and Juliette could see the conflict in his expression. He wanted to ask her something, she realised.

"What is it?" she asked him. She ducked her head in an attempt to meet his eyes, which were locked firmly on the bedsheets.

He looked up at her and pursed his lips, exhaling loudly before finally resolving to just ask. "Is Penny your real name?"

Juliette sucked in a breath and looked to Thomas, who was already looking at her. Jules looked hesitantly back at Gene, lips puckered in a physical display of her discomfort at the question. But there was no point lying. He already knew she was a spy.

"No," she finally told him through a quick exhale, the word emerging breathy and short. "Standard precaution," she explained. He nodded.

"We can't tell you our real names in case you slip up in front of the others," Thomas added, and Gene nodded again.

"Sure. I was just wonderin'." Then he sent Juliette a small smile. "Anyway, everythin's lookin' good, but you gotta stay still, alright? Consider it formal bedrest."

"How long?" she inquired. He shrugged once more.

"Seven days minimum, I'd say. Depends on how fast it all heals. I'll keep checkin' up on ya and I'll let you know as soon as I do."

Juliette smiled. "Thank you, Gene. Really. You didn't have to help but you did. I hope you know how much I appreciate it."

He shrugged once more, ducking away from her gaze and watching his shoes as if they were suddenly very interesting. Both Juliette and Thomas were amused by how bashful he had become.

"'S'alright," he told her, nodding to the both of them before seeing himself out.

Once the front door had closed Juliette turned to Thomas with a smile. "So, I hear you're going out tonight."

"What? No, I told Martin that -"

Jules laughed. "No, I know. I think you should go, though. They'll get suspicious if you don't. And Alex will be here if I need him."

Tom shook his head. "It wouldn't feel right for us to go out when you're stuck here like this."

Juliette sighed. "It's fine! I'm telling you I don't mind. After the colossal hangover I got last time I probably wouldn't have gone anyway." This wasn't true and they both knew it, but Tom appreciated her attempts to diminish his guilt. "Send the yanks my love and tell them I'm sick."

"Of what?"

"To the back teeth of you. I don't know, make it up. Garner as much sympathy for my case as you can so that next time I'm out I'll get loads of free drinks. Think of it as seeking donations for charity."

"You're awful," Thomas accused, but he was laughing at her.

Jules grinned. "But..?"

He shook his head. "But I am nothing if not a good citizen willing to encourage others to donate to charity."

Juliette cheered at her success and Tom laughed once more. "How do you always manage to get your way?" he wondered.

Jules shrugged. "Because I'm so bloody cute?" Tom laughed and she grinned. "Make sure you get Will to go with you. I'm quite sure Martin can be swayed but Will felt so guilty about what happened, I just want him to forget about it for a bit."

Thomas nodded. "I told him that it wasn't his fault but I don't think it convinced him much. He still feels so bad." He sent her a reassuring smile. "I'll get him to come," he resolved, confident. "And if he refuses I'll just send him in here - you always seem to get your way one way or another."

Jules grinned. "Looks like Alex and I are having a sleepover tonight!"

Thomas laughed loudly. "Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if he set up camp on your floor just to make sure you're alright. I think he'll have a stroke if he sees you out of bed again."

Juliette fiddled with the bedsheets for a moment, suddenly more sombre at the mention of Alexis' worry. "Is he angry with me, do you think?" she asked quietly, looking up at Thomas with knitted eyebrows.

Tom's expression softened and he looked away for a moment, taking in the light from the window as he seemed to fight against saying something. Juliette wondered briefly on what he would have to hide but Thomas' reply cut off that particular train of thought. "I don't think he's angry. I think he's just..." He cut himself off, deciding against admitting what he was about to say. "I don't know, really," he said instead. "He doesn't like it when you try to play the hero."

Jules stared down at the blanket looking very much like a child that had just been reprimanded by its parents for some wrongdoing or other. "I don't mean to irritate him -" she began.

Thomas sighed, cutting her off. "No, Jules, you don't irritate him. He just worries about you a lot."

She shrugged, not really understanding it. Thomas didn't even worry about her to the extent that Alexis did, and her and Thomas had been through everything together.

She decided that she would never understand Alexis and his actions. He was the hardest on her out of all of them, constantly berating her for this mistake or that, and he was always reminding her the rules of being undercover as though he knew better than she did, even though she was the specialist. But he also always made sure that she knew that he had formulated the plans in the way that would keep her the safest, and always made sure she had back up, never sending her in alone.

She would never understand him, and perhaps forever be slightly intimidated by him, though she'd never admit it. But she was glad to have him as her commanding officer; there was no one better for the job. That she was certain of.


	27. Of What Use

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this? And a tear, a real tear, trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground." - Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Tom, Will, and Martin all resolved to gather in Juliette's room later that evening before they left for the pub. True to her prediction, it hadn't taken much to convince Martin to go, though William had insisted for a fair while that he would stay behind to keep Juliette company. She could tell he still felt so guilty for her injuries, regardless of how much the others had tried to assure him that it wasn't his fault.

Martin led them in with two bottles of whiskey clutched in his hands and Tom followed closely behind with three glasses (Alexis had told them in no uncertain terms that Juliette was not to have any), whilst Will trailed in last wearing a sheepish smile. Juliette made sure to send him a bright smile to reassure him that she wanted him to go and that she didn't much mind about being left behind.

"Well, don't you lot clean up well?" she drawled with a low whistle. They all laughed as they gathered around the end of her bed and made themselves comfortable.

"Yeah, hopefully we'll get some of the attention now that you're not coming," Will remarked. She giggled.

"Hoping to snag a paratrooper, Will?" she teased. He rolled his eyes with a smile.

Tom handed a glass to Martin and Will after having filled them all, and they all downed them in one after toasting to Jules, which made her giggle. Tom sent her a grin.

"You gonna be alright by yourself, trouble?" Martin asked, and Jules laughed.

"I'm not by myself - Alex is here. But regardless, yes, I will be. Just spare me a thought when you're knocking back shots like it's your last night on earth, okay?"

"You'll be with us in spirit," Tom promised, and they shared a smile.

"Oh! That reminds me," Martin suddenly exclaimed. He left the room briskly before returning moments later with three books in his hands. He set them down in Juliette's lap before joining the other boys at the end of the bed once more, who were watching her expectantly.

A wide smile overcame Juliette's features. "You found some!" she cheered, spreading them out on top of the sheets.

"Yeah. I'm not much of a reader myself -" he began.

"You don't say?" Thomas cut in sarcastically, earning himself an almighty shove.

"- but the woman in the shop said they were alright, so... I hope they're alright." He offered a slight smile which Juliette returned with her own beaming one.

The first book was a classic which she had, coincidentally, never read: 'Moll Flanders' by Daniel Defoe. She traced the outline of the gold lettering on the front carefully, in awe of its luminescence in the dying light from the window. The second was 'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' by Robert Louis Stevenson, a book her mother had often spoken of fondly for how intrigued she had been by it in her youth. Jules thought she would probably like that one very much.

When she looked to the last book she let out a small gasp, dropping the others in place of picking up the third immediately. "My mum used to read this to me when I was little," she told the boys quietly. She didn't draw her eyes away from it even for a second. "It was always my favourite."

"What is it?" Will asked. She smiled softly.

"'The Velveteen Rabbit'," she told them. She pushed the sudden tears which had formed in her eyes back as far as she could, but the nostalgia was so sudden, so strong, so unexpected. It looked to be the same copy her mother had had, the cover identical. Juliette clutched the book tightly in both hands and smiled up at Martin. "This is incredible, Martin. Really. Thank you." She hoped he could understand the sincerity of her gratitude; having this book was like having a small piece of home where she'd otherwise been able to take nothing at all with her. That was worth everything.

Martin smiled back at her and didn't say anything, which made Jules think that perhaps he could see how much his gifts had warmed her, though she knew he would never know the half of it.

It was only a little while later that the three men had to leave, and she shooed them out with a smile, calling after them to send the Americans her love and to not have too much fun in her absence lest they never invite her again. Once she had heard the front door slam, which told her that Thomas had obviously been the last out, ( _that boy and slamming the bloody door, I swear,_ she thought with a grin) she settled back against the pillows that had been propped up against the bed's headboard and ran gentle fingers over the cover of 'The Velveteen Rabbit'. She could almost hear her mother's gentle voice reading the title to her as she sat by her bedside, always willing to read the book over and over again to Jules whenever she had asked.

When she flipped to the first chapter and began to read, a single tear slipped out.

_'There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.'_

Her mother's voice saying the words in her head was so visceral and so gentle it was as though it wasn't even a memory. In that moment it felt as though her mother really was there, sat at her bedside and reading the story aloud to her to make her feel better after all she had gone through. Jules had to close the book lest her tears ruin the pages, and as she sat there she began to cry.

Clutching the book tightly to her chest, silent sobs wracked her body, her eyes squeezed tight shut against the onslaught of tears. She tried to ignore her homesickness at all costs, and it often worked, but in the face of something so personal, so directly related to home and all that it had stood for, she couldn't ignore it any longer.

It had been six years since she had last seen her mother. Six years since she had left home to become a code breaker, under the guise of being needed to work in a munitions factory.

It had been five since her parents had been told that she was dead.

Juliette pressed a hand firmly against her mouth as her sobs became audible. Her grief for all that she had left behind pierced through the air as though to kill the silence that had hurt her for all of the comfort it couldn't provide.

Into the silence of the room Juliette sobbed for the person that she had become, and for the person that she had lost. She sobbed for the home she likely would never return to, and for the home that she had found with her friends for how easily that, too, could be taken from her.

How one small book which had brought her so much happiness as a child now wrought so much pain made her truly realise that the person she had been, the person her mother had known, was no more. That version of Juliette was dead and would never be resurrected.

Jules forced herself to calm down, breathing shaky deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth until her heart rate had slowed and the tears had stopped flooding. She sucked in one last breath, nodding to herself as if to assure herself that she was okay, before opening her eyes.

Alexis was stood in the doorway. She hadn't even heard him open the door.

He was watching her with a guarded expression she would have mistaken as blank if she didn't know him so well. But because she did, she could see the sadness in it. The sympathy.

She looked away.

Alex didn't say anything, and he didn't try to console her. He crossed the room in two quick strides and perched on the end of her bed, his eyes never straying from her face until they caught sight of the book still pressed against her heart. He wouldn't have understood its significance, but something in his eyes when Juliette looked back at him acknowledged that he understood its value. Those eyes were filled with such concern she could hardly bear to look at them.

Tentatively, he held out his hand to her. Juliette barely even acknowledged it until he uncurled his fingers, realising he wanted her to hold it.

Shakily, Juliette reached out and placed her hand atop his.

And so they sat there, in perfect silence, holding hands and waiting as night settled in, the low lighting of the room soon devolving into darkness. After a period of time Alex squeezed her hand, standing up from the bed to draw the curtains closed and then turn on the lamp, which sat on her bedside table.

He picked up the book and began to read to her.

_'"There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splendid.'"_


	28. An Almost Infinite Capacity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted." - Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

Hints of Christmas began appearing around Aldbourne in small breaths of tinsel and quick gasps of holly. Shops and houses alike began decorating prematurely, perhaps because as of late there had been very little to be joyful or excited about. Juliette relished in the small notions of celebration that showed up everywhere she least expected to find them; she had always loved Christmas, and though her Christmases hadn't been the same since she left home, and indeed she hadn't been able to celebrate one in three years, she couldn't bring herself to resent a holiday which had brought her so much joy as a child.

After she had recovered from her injuries she was sent back out into the field again repeatedly. As Christmas approached and thus so did the new year the Allies were anxious to enter 1944 with the upper hand, though with the way things were going it didn't seem likely that they were going to get it.

The team of spies worked tirelessly to gull the Germans into beginning preparations for an invasion of Calais, and were rather pleased to see that their work, in this respect at least, was not in vain; reinforcements were slowly being fed into the vicinity. Even though the invasion would not be until the spring, this was a welcome exhibit that their fake intel was being believed and trusted.

Juliette tucked her hands into her coat pockets and ducked her head against the wind, making her way leisurely through Aldbourne. She was on grocery duty this time, and it was the first time she'd been allowed to do it since her injury (not that she was complaining - she hated grocery duty). The supermarket was across the village so she relished in the biting cold air and midday sunshine as she made her way there.

"Hey, look who it is!"

Juliette grinned to herself at what was so obviously the voice of Skip Muck and turned to find him wandering over to her, accompanied (as always) by Don Malarkey and Alex Penkala; those three were scarcely ever apart for more than three minutes.

"Gentlemen," she greeted them with a smile as they neared her.

Penkala chuckled. "Hey, y'hear that, boys? We're _gentlemen_."

"Where ya been, Penny? Haven't seen you in years!" Don asked her. He crossed his arms over his chest to preserve warmth against the chill of the winter air.

Skip nodded. "Last we heard you were so sick you couldn't come out with us, but that was a while back."

"You feeling better?" Don then asked, almost as an after-thought. She laughed. It was hard to get a word in edgewise with these three.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you, Don."

"Say, are you and the boys comin' out tonight?" Penkala inquired. Jules shook her head.

"I daresay if Henry knows about it then he'll be coming but I'm not sure whether I'll be permitted, if I'm honest. I'll have to ask the doctor."

"Ah, come on," Don protested. "What better cure for sickness is there than alcohol?"

Juliette laughed. "You just want a rematch to preserve some of the dignity you lost in the boat race, no?"

Skip and Penkala laughed uproariously at their friend's expense whilst Don shook his head with a rueful smile. "Well, if you're offering..."

Juliette grinned. "Same time and place as before?" When they all three nodded she sighed. "I'll see what I can do. The boys'll likely go but I have to get special permission first."

"Yeah, yeah," Skip brushed her away. "We'll see you tonight."

Juliette giggled at their antics. "Maybe."

"Definitely!" Penkala protested. She laughed once more.

"I said maybe, now leave me alone before I change my mind!"

It was on her way back out of the supermarket that she ran into Floyd Talbert, who was flanked by Shifty Powers and Skinny Sisk, both of whom Juliette had met for the first time back at the pub. Both Shifty and Skinny were sweet boys, though where Shifty was all sunshine and impeccable manners, Skinny was the type of charming that came accompanied by mischief. And Floyd, of course, was an insatiable flirt. It was him who noticed her first.

"Hey! Penny!" He waved her over to them and she approached with a smile and a wave.

"Boys," she greeted them, smiling in the face of their three beams back at her.

"Are you feelin' better, miss?" Shifty asked. Juliette giggled quietly; Shifty was insistent on politeness and chivalry, and even though she'd insisted that he just call her by her (fake) name, he seemed to only feel comfortable using honorifics.

"I'm feeling a lot better, thank you, Shifty. How have you boys been?"

"A lot better for seein' you, that's for sure," Floyd replied with a wink. She laughed; he was just the same as always.

"Always the charmer," she commented.

He grinned. "You know me."

"Are you coming to the pub tonight?" Skinny changed the subject. She laughed lightly.

"Don, Skip, and Alex just asked me the same. I'm sure the others'll come but I'll have to check in with my doctor first," she explained, to which they nodded.

"If he says no just let me know, I'll sneak ya out," Floyd told her with a conspiratorial nod. Jules giggled, shaking her head at him.

"Okay, Floyd, I'll be sure to do that."

The boys allowed her to continue on her way shortly after and Juliette found herself wandering the streets of Aldbourne once more after she had put away all of the groceries, this time in pursuit of one dark-haired, Southern medic. Their paths seemed to cross frequently purely by coincidence but when she was actively seeking him out he was nowhere to be found.

After having checked the medical tent she usually found him in and still coming up empty, Jules resolved to merely wander around the village in the hopes that he would show up at some point. She was looking up at the sky wondering whether rain was due, before deciding that it likely was considering it was both Winter and England, and England loved to do nothing more than rain, when a tap on her shoulder had her whirling around with fright.

"God!" she exclaimed upon seeing George grinning at her. She pressed a hand to her heart in the hopes of slowing its thumping before she exhaled loudly. "Christ alive, George, don't do that!"

"Nice to see you too." He smirked. "What ya lookin' at?"

"Searching for a will to live," she told him with a grin. He just laughed. "Do you happen to have seen Gene?" she then inquired. By this point she had thoroughly exhausted all of her options and decided that it was rather unlikely she would catch him by coincidence now.

"Gene who?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Roe! Isn't he your medic?"

"Oh! The doc! Yeah, I've seen him. Why?"

Juliette laughed and shook her head. "No, I mean do you know where he is?"

George's eyebrows shot skyward. "Depends. Why are you askin'?"

She shut her eyes and exhaled loudly, pursing her lips as she looked back at him. "If you try to insinuate that I fancy him, George, I swear to God."

George laughed. "Alright, alright, don't kill me. I saw him go that way." And he thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction from which she had come.

Jules wondered briefly whether he might be in the field they had first met in, for indeed they had had some conversations there since, and resolved to check there next. She wondered why she hadn't thought to look there in the first place.

"Brilliant! Thank you!" Just as she set off he grabbed her wrist gently and she spun back to face him expectantly.

"We're going to the pub tonight. So are you. No excuses. You're supposed to be helping me 'woo' that sweet, sweet barmaid." He put air-quotations on the word 'woo', which made Juliette roll her eyes, but she smiled nonetheless.

"Yes, I've been told much the same by a fair few of your friends. I'll give you a maybe and be on my way, okay?"

George stroked his chin as he pretended to contemplate her offer. "No, see, I ain't sure a maybe's gonna cut it."

"No?" she humoured him, crossing her arms.

"No. See, I tried your 'being myself' method but I think I'm gonna need some coaching. So you're coming, alright?"

Juliette sighed. "Alright. Fine. I'm coming." George cheered and she rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, George."

"Bye!" he called after her. She smiled to herself as she walked away.

The walk to the field she had first met Gene in was rather short; the field was tucked out of the way on what Juliette had deemed the Americans' side of town, so it was only about a five minute walk before she came upon it. She discovered Gene sitting cross-legged in the grass staring down at something in his lap, and when she came closer she realised it was a letter. All of a sudden she felt bad for seeking him out, chastising herself as clearly if she'd been unable to find him elsewhere it was because he was actively seeking privacy. But it was too late to turn back and pretend as though nothing had ever happened for Gene had already seen her.

He glanced up at her, obviously having noticed movement in his peripheral vision, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Juliette took this as a good sign and moved closer, coming to sit beside him once she was sure he didn't mind her presence.

She sat in silence for a little while, waiting quietly whilst Gene finished reading his letter and content to merely absorb the feeling of the warm sunshine on her skin battling with the chill in the breeze. There was something lyrical about the sound of the wind in the trees and the swaying of the grass, which had been left to grow long in the winter months, and she felt very at peace as she sat there just listening and watching. 

Gene cleared his throat once he had finished reading and folded the letter back up again. Jules looked to him. "Letter from home?"

"Yeah. From my ma."

Juliette smiled. "How is she doing?"

"She's doin' okay. Says she can't wait for me to come home. Talked mostly about my sisters and how they're doin'."

Jules nodded, watching him carefully for a moment before looking ahead once more, not wanting to make him feel as though he was being interrogated. "They must miss you very much."

Gene didn't say anything, but she could feel his eyes on her as she looked towards the trees. She hoped he was smiling that small, warm smile of his that was so rare and thus so special. When she risked a glance at him she found that he was, and this, in turn, made her smile wider.

"How are your wounds doin'?" he asked suddenly, as though only just remembering that he had ever had to bandage her up. Jules smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, they're great. Really pretty." He rolled his eyes at this. "But I've been told by three separate lots of people in the past hour that I'm to go to the pub tonight. I said I'd probably better get my doctor's approval first. So, what do you think?"

Gene shook his head with a smile. "If you're careful and don't throw yourself around the place then you'll be fine." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Even if I said no, would you have gone anyway?"

Jules smiled. "I may have already told George that I'd come, but I didn't want to show up and find you there and have to bear the brunt of your fiery gaze." This earned a chuckle out of him, which she smiled triumphantly at. " _Will_ you be there?"

The medic met her gaze almost warily, and analysed her expression for a moment before looking away again and nodding. "Sure. For a little while, maybe."

"That's a yes?"

Gene chuckled to himself. "Yeah, it's a yes."

"Yes!" she cheered. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling more brightly now, and in earnest. Juliette noticed and knocked her shoulder against his gently. "You have a nice smile."

A wave of red flooded his face almost immediately which made Jules giggle, though she looked away from him to allow him to get himself together in peace. She contented herself with the expanse of green in front of her instead. She heard Gene utter a quiet, bashful, "Thanks," and smiled, glancing at him once more before getting to her feet.

"Well, I should probably be getting back. I'm sorry for interrupting your letter-reading," she offered with a small smile. Gene got to his feet as well, though Jules had a feeling he had no intention of leaving the field for a little while. He sent her that same small smile once more.

"'S'alright. I, uh, I think I kinda needed the company."

Juliette smiled, feeling as though he had just revealed something very personal about himself to her. She gave his bicep a small squeeze before bidding him goodbye and leaving the field directly. She then began heading in the direction of the house, which had, somehow and entirely accidentally, become something of a home.


	29. The Cloud Not the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I saw the Cloud, though I did not foresee the Storm." - Daniel Defoe, Moll Flanders

"Penny! I'm tryin' so hard to be serious for once and you're fuckin' laughin' at me! Unbelievable," George ranted with feigned agitation whilst Juliette tried desperately (with limited success) to stop giggling. The pair of them were already more than a few drinks in and Jules' attempts to train George in the art of wooing women had them both in fits of giggles at alternating times, making it exceedingly difficult to actually get anything done.

"Right. No, right. I'm okay. I'm not laughing anymore. Okay." Jules sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and nodded to herself as though affirming her sobriety, before she began again. "Okay, so you're going to go up there and just introduce yourself, okay? Just - George!"

This time it was George's turn to burst into hysterics, and Jules quickly dissolved into giggles herself despite the lack of anything particularly worthy of such a reaction.

When their laughter subsided Juliette had to purse her lips to maintain seriousness. "We seriously need to hurry this up, George, I've needed a new drink for about half an hour."

George laughed. "Yeah, me too. So I'll go up to her and -" he broke off laughing once more, but to his credit sobered himself up relatively quickly, before continuing on as though nothing had happened, "I'll tell her my name and ask her how she's doin'."

The giggles were back. As soon as she broke so did George.

"It's not even that funny," Juliette choked out between laughs, which only made the pair of them laugh harder. They eventually calmed down, their giggles fizzling out into sighs and breaths to regain composure.

"Right. Ask her how she is. That's good. Then what?"

"Just have a normal conversation as if I was talkin' to you. No pick up lines, no gimmicks, no obvious flirtin'."

"Perfect!" Jules exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "And remember that when she replies you should be able to gauge whether or not she's interested. If she's not interested just order and leave her alone but if you think she is then you can ramp up the flirting. But not too much! Remember what I said!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't come on too strong, I got it," George replied with faux-exasperation before Juliette nodded with a grin. She placed both hands on his shoulders and levelled him with a suddenly serious expression, which he met with the same level of intensity; they were both taking this very seriously all of a sudden. "George, you've got this. Go and blow her away."

George closed his eyes and inclined his head to her in a display of esteemed respect for his teacher before turning and heading straight for the bar like a man on a mission. Juliette watched from behind Bull's back, using him as a shield so she wouldn't be caught spying. A proud glint formed in her eyes when she saw the barmaid, Mary, smile at what George had said and say something relatively lengthy in reply.

"Yes!" she cheered quietly. She then turned and resolved to leave them to it, even though she regrettably still didn't have a drink.

"Hey, sweetheart! You done lecturin'?" a voice which so obviously belonged to Bill Guarnere called out. She spun to face him with a look of mock sympathy.

"Don't worry, Bill, I can give you lessons as well if you want?"

Joe Toye, who was beside him, laughed, in the face of which Jules shot him a grin. Bill rolled his eyes.

"I'd love some, 'cept there ain't nothin' you can teach me that I don't already know," Bill replied with a smirk, slinging an arm over her shoulders. Jules giggled.

"Whatever you say, buddy." She tapped him twice on the arm that was over her conspiratorially just to see him bristle and laughed brightly when she got the reaction she wanted. "So you've got a girlfriend back home," she then began, watching as he smiled. "What's her name?"

"Frannie. Prettiest broad in all of Philly, I'm tellin' ya. And I bet you two would get on like a house on fire."

Juliette grinned. "Oh, I'm not sure what myself and a girl willing to engage in a romantic relationship with you could possibly have in common, but I'll take your word for it." She tried so hard to maintain a straight face but was giggling like a schoolgirl as soon as she had finished, and she wasn't alone; Toye laughed uproariously, and indeed it was the probably most she'd ever seen him laugh. Bill tried his absolute hardest to appear miffed. However, even he couldn't prevent the grin from spreading across his features.

"You're breakin' my heart, doll," he told her with an amused twinkle in his eye. She laughed.

"That's what I'm best at."

As Jules went on to ask more about Frannie, George eventually made his way back to the group with the announcement that he had landed himself a date. With that proud declaration, he scooped Juliette up into his arms and spun her around in a circle, all the while boldly proclaiming to the world that she was his 'new favourite person'. To prove it, he had returned with a gin and tonic which he had apparently remembered she had been drinking last time, which she smiled at, and the three Americans began retelling stories of their training back in the States whilst Juliette eagerly absorbed every word.

She was unsurprised to hear that George had been the source of much of the morale-boosting when they needed it most at Camp Toccoa and was where they had begun their training. This infamous Camp Toccoa was the home of a mountain named Currahee, they explained, which had become their company motto. She smiled brightly at the pride with which they chanted it at her, as if to prove to her that they weren't lying.

Juliette didn't know when Gene entered, for he was a much quieter type of person than her and he stuck to the edges of rooms whereas she always seemed, whether deliberately or otherwise, to be dragged into the centre. It was when she was desperately trying to deny Malarkey another drinking contest that she caught his eye, and her smile widened tenfold.

"Gene!" she exclaimed upon seeing him, as she tended to do when finding him in places she didn't expect to. She turned back to Malarkey with a smile. "Sorry, Don, I have business to attend to. Next time, perhaps? Gives you time to practise." She sent him a wink before grabbing her drink and approaching the medic, who sat at a table with Shifty and Skinny whilst Floyd was presumably off flirting up a storm somewhere. "When did you get here?" she wondered, foregoing the greetings with the other two after already having spoken to them both earlier on in the night.

Gene smiled slightly, that quirk of the lips he did when he didn't really know what else to do with himself, and shrugged. "Little while ago. You look like you're havin' fun."

Jules grinned. "Don's trying to challenge me to another drinking competition, as though he wasn't thoroughly embarrassed last time, so you've actually done me an awfully big favour with your appearance. After last time I woke up with the worst headache you've ever experienced, I swear, and I was stuck with it for about three days, so I'd like to avoid that at all costs if I can."

All three men laughed at her babbling and she smiled brightly once more, feeling thoroughly buzzed with all of the alcohol she had already consumed. Just as she opened her mouth to say something else a pair of hands landed themselves on her shoulders and she looked up to find Thomas peering over her head at the three men sat at the table.

"Well if it isn't our most favourite medic," he drawled with a grin. Gene ducked his head with a bashful smile; he hated to be the centre of attention.

The attention was quickly diverted, however, when Tom tapped Jules twice on the head and leaned down until his head was hovering above her right shoulder. "Boat race? Malarkey won't shut up about a rematch."

"I already told him no!" she groaned, shooting a look at the three Americans as if to say 'I told you'.

"Don't be a spoilsport," Tom warned.

She shook her head. "It's alright for you! You don't wake up the next morning with a banging headache!" Tom pouted and she rolled her eyes. "Pick someone else. I give you express permission to betray me just this once."

"I'll do whatever you want," Tom promised, still pouting but now with his hands clasped together to dramatise his pleading. "And I _promise_ not to be loud tomorrow morning." Jules shot him an unconvinced look and he laughed, holding up his hands. "I _promise,_ okay? I really, really won't. Just think of it: no noise, and I'll do whatever you want."

Juliette sighed and chewed on her bottom lip while she considered his offer. Then she turned to Gene, Skinny, and Shifty.

"What are we thinking, boys? Council me."

"Do it," Skinny said without hesitation, and she laughed. "I wanna see you beat them all again," he explained, which made Tom high-five him.

"I think you should do whatever you're comfortable doin', miss," Shifty offered when she looked to him. Jules laughed.

"Shifty, I think I'm in love with you."

Skinny found this incredibly amusing, and it even got a laugh out of Gene, whilst poor Shifty blushed something furious, suddenly all shy and bashful.

Juliette then looked at the medic. "Gene?" When she saw his eyes flick to Thomas she just knew that the latter was mouthing something to encourage him to convince her. She gave him an elbow to the ribs to make him stop it.

Gene wore a small, almost coy, smile as he shrugged. "I didn't get to see last time..."

"So it's settled!" Tom announced, throwing his hands up into the air and smiling broadly. Then, he turned to Jules seriously. "How much have you had so far?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "Four rounds. I think. Or five. Four or five, for sure. Wait - six? No, I think it's five."

Tom nodded with her. "Lets say five."

Just as he began pulling Jules over to where the boat race was to take place - incidentally, at the same table it had taken place before - she turned back to the table of Americans with a grin. "If I go horizontal it's not my fault."

The teams were already gathered when Tom and Jules arrived at the scene. Malarkey had chosen a different team member in Skip this time, hoping to sway his odds by changing things up, whilst another team was comprised of Bill and Toye (who were also returning from the previous time in the hopes that their combined effort would win them back their dignity). There was a fourth team in the mix, however, formed of Joe Liebgott and Ed Tipper. Jules had yet to formally meet Tipper but she had met Joe on a few occasions; first, when he had tried flirting with her at the pub last time, to which she denied him a drink and thus earned herself a special place in Bill's heart, and second when he had caught her counting roof tiles whilst Alex lectured her on something or other. On the second occasion he had sent her a smirk, eyes darting between her and the man she clearly wasn't listening to, before winking and carrying on as he was. Juliette had laughed to herself when it had happened.

This time it was Carwood Lipton who would be moderating the competition to check for cheating and judge fairly who won - he was one of the company's Non-Commissioned Officers and was universally liked for his amiable and agreeable nature. Juliette had spoken to him a few times and liked him very much.

The pints of beer had already been set up on the table - Jules only briefly wondered who was always funding these competitions but didn't much care for the answer - and they each grabbed one and got into their ready-positions. Jules smiled smugly at Tom and gestured with her head to where Malarkey and Skip as well as Bill and Toye had now opted to face one another as opposed to stand side-by-side as they had done last time, which was a technique Jules and Tom always used. They were really trying to win this time.

"They didn't come to mess around," Tom remarked with a laugh. She grinned.

"It's a good thing we didn't either, then."

Bets rang out amongst the crowd gathered just as they had the time before, though this time there were substantially more in favour of Jules and Tom. The majority were with Bill and Toye, who were the heavyweights of both of their teams previously, and even Jules had to admit that their odds were looking good, but all she needed was one glance at Tom to regain her confidence; they had never lost, and they weren't about to lose to a bunch of yanks.

Lipton counted them down and the whole thing was over in what seemed like a blink; the nerves that had bubbled up in Juliette's stomach turned to adrenaline just when she needed them to, and when she slammed her glass back down on the table Tom grabbed her into a hug so enthusiastic it lifted her off of the ground.

"That's not fair!" Malarkey was exclaiming to anyone who would listen. Juliette only laughed. When she looked up, Bill and Toye were just as dumbfounded as they had been the first time, but Bill's expression quickly morphed into a grin.

Liebgott was complaining of some cheating having to be involved and Jules just rolled her eyes. She shot him a smirk when their eyes met. "Where'd a boy like you learn to drink like that? That is to say, poorly." She shot him a wink, her words a parody of the pick-up line he had tried to use on her after the last boat race, and she heard Thomas laughing beside her.

When George bounded over, looking every bit an over-excited puppy, he was grinning from ear to ear. "You just won me a whole lotta money!"

Juliette laughed, pleased that at least one of her former competitors had deemed them worthy enough of their title to not want to attempt to take it from them. Tom, however, was not laughing, and had his attention firmly fixed on the door. He tapped Jules on the shoulder and she followed his gaze. Her smile faltered.

Alex was standing in the doorway, and he didn't look pleased.

Jules and Tom shared a secret look that drowned in the midst of all of the revelry around them. They were being sent out again, and at the worst possible time.


	30. Revolutions are Infinite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is no final one; revolutions are infinite." - Yevgeny Zamyatin, We

"We're moving out," Alexis said, no hints of a joke on his face. "Right now."

"What? Why?" Tom asked, incredulous, but Alex just shook his head.

"Where are the others?"

"Um, Will's in the bathroom and -"

"What's going on?" Martin cut Juliette off, looking between the three of them concernedly.

"We're moving out. I'll explain on the way. Get William."

Alex left no room for argument, one look at his face was enough to know that he wasn't messing around (not that he ever did), and the tone of his voice was grave enough to let them all know that this was serious. Jules looked to Thomas almost instinctively and found him looking back at her; his eyebrows were furrowed in a look of worry he rarely wore, and she could only imagine her own face looked much the same.

As she looked around at the bustling pub she could only hope that the sheer volume of people and activity would allow them to slip out unnoticed, though her eyes locked with Gene's at the last moment. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes flicked between her and the group gathered around her. She sent him a nod and what she hoped was a reassuring smile; he had worked out what was happening. Juliette looked away, hoping he would do the same to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.

As soon as Martin returned with Will, Alex led them out into the freezing winter air. When the door had closed behind them he broke out into a run. It was late enough that no one was out and the noise from the pub was loud enough to mask their footfalls. They made it back to the house in record time and each split off in separate directions immediately to get ready.

Juliette tried desperately to rid herself of any traces of intoxication, but she had clearly drunk more than the ideal amount for such an activity. She stumbled her way up the stairs and crashed into almost every wall on her way into her room.

She made getting out of her dress much more difficult than necessary with her drunken state before getting into her jump gear. She was incredibly grateful that she had already prepared her mission bag as soon as she had come back from the last one just in case of a surprise last minute call up. She was waiting back by the front door in minutes.

Alex shoved a cup in her hands and she downed it all in one, hoping the freezing water would sober her up a little bit. Almost as soon as she had put the glass down the others had gathered, too.

The truck pulled up outside right on time.

Alex began to brief them as soon as they'd all bundled in and the truck started moving again. "A team they had in the field has been caught by the SS - they think there's been an information leak so they're sending us in. We're heading back to Bordeaux, a safe house is waiting there for us where we'll get ready and head out at first light."

"What's the job?" Tom asked.

Alex pursed his lips. "The team we're replacing didn't have time to bail out. They're currently in custody, due to be moved to the Gestapo HQ tomorrow morning."

Jules sucked in a hasty breath, her heart rate stuttering as it spiked. "We're rescuing prisoners?"

Alex nodded. "In the hopes that they haven't broken yet. In Paris, agents tend to last about thirty minutes, and we have no idea how much this group knows. If we don't get them out they could potentially compromise safe houses, resistance contacts, names of double agents..." He paused, looking between each of the others carefully. "They could compromise the Normandy invasion if they break. Getting them out before they reach Paris is our best, and only, option."

"So the stakes are rather high, then?" Will asked rather redundantly, sharing a cautious glance with Juliette.

Alex nodded. "If we can't reach them, everything's down the drain. Failure isn't an option."

"Is it ever?" Martin mumbled from his place beside Jules.

Alex looked to him sharply. "This isn't like the other missions. You need to understand the importance of what we're doing, or everything will fall through." His words faltered, what he was about to say next a sudden dawning realisation on him just as it would be on the others. "Essentially, the entirety of the invasion of France rests on our shoulders. The size of Operation Bodyguard guarantees this team has been working to convince the Germans that the Allies will be coming through Calais. If they break, it's all over. The invasion that's supposed to win us the war will be futile."

"This mission could win or lose us the war," Tom murmured in realisation, glancing up at Alexis warily.

Alex nodded.

Juliette rubbed a hand over her eyes, forgetting she was wearing makeup, and gave a small, resigned sigh.

"What's the game plan?" Tom wondered, and Alex went on to explain all of the logistics of the operation.

Jules felt a surge of anxiety rush through her when she learned of her part in the mission. Sometimes she wondered how she ever made it out of these missions alive with the positions she was put in. She supposed she had her younger self to thank, mostly; she was a compulsive liar as a child.

"But that's - that's practically suicidal!" Will protested once Alex had informed them all of her place on the front lines of the mission. Jules squeezed his knee reassuringly.

"I'll be fine, Will. Don't worry about me."

When she met eyes with Alex, however, she was certain the fear was evident in her features, perhaps so deeply engraved it oozed out of her entire being. Alex was watching her with that sympathetic, guilty expression again, as though trying to show her how sorry he was for putting her in that position, and Jules mustered the best smile she could for him. It wasn't his fault; she was their primary undercover agent, and as their tactician he had to use his resources accordingly. It was a difficult mission, and Jules knew that he would have planned it meticulously to ensure their guaranteed success. That didn't stop the buzzing of dread in her veins, however. Will was right; on paper it really was suicidal.

"Thomas, your timing has to be perfect," Alex told him seriously, despite the fact he'd already said as much when explaining his respective role in the operation.

Tom nodded, lips drawn into a firm line. "I won't be late," he promised.

Moments later they pulled up to the airfield they generally used, which was so top secret none of them actually had any idea where it was. Their lone plane was already ready and waiting for them, the engine purring its anticipation to fly.

Each of them filed out of the truck and got themselves ready to jump, checking each other's equipment carefully before getting onto the plane and sitting down, ready for their standard procedure jump into France. As the plane took off, Jules found it rather soothing, a far cry from the intense panic she had felt the first time she had had to jump; nowadays, it was what was waiting for them on the ground that was really to be dreaded. The plane had become the best part.

Juliette clasped her hands together in her lap and closed her eyes, thinking hard on her training and everything she would need to remember to carry this out as cleanly as possible. She distantly wondered what her parents would think if they could see her now, minutes away from jumping out of an aeroplane into occupied France ready to bust some high-value prisoners out of the grip of the Nazis. She thought her mother would probably faint from the shock, though her father, through all of his faults, might have smiled; she was working to free the land he loved so much, after all, and after realising that suddenly her job wasn't so scary anymore.


	31. Loyal to the Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice." - Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

"If they've already tried to make them talk we're screwed, you know that, right?" Juliette asked Thomas. She was seated in the living room of the safe house in Bordeaux.

Tom sighed. "If they've already tried to make them talk we're more than screwed. We're fu-"

"They won't have tried to make them talk already. The ranking officers here don't have high enough security clearance," Alex swiftly interjected. "Their orders were to detain them and keep them alive and safe until they get to Paris. You'll be fine, Juliette," he promised, looking each of them in the eye sternly. "Just, don't think about it. Our Resistance contact will be here soon."

As if on cue, the coded knock at the door sounded, and Alex was on his feet in an instant. When he opened the door he asked the relevant question, and when he received the relevant answer he let the woman in; code words were standard procedure, even with a secret knock.

"You are the new Brits, no?" the woman asked with a thick French accent, removing her jacket before following Alexis into the living room. "Such a shame about the other ones."

Alex nodded, but was ever a man of few words.

"My name is Brigitte. I am the local Resistance contact, as I am sure you are already aware."

Juliette's eyes shot up to the woman at the sound of her name. She knew that name and she vaguely recognised that voice.

"Brigitte?" she whispered subconsciously under her breath, her eyebrows furrowing as recognition set in. It was definitely her.

When the woman looked in her direction she gasped; Juliette hadn't been sure she would recognise her after all these years but apparently she had. "Juliette? Little Juliette Chevalier? It cannot be!"

Juliette hopped to her feet more out of shock than anything else, her eyes wide and her hands fidgeting as she tried to work out how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. But surely it was a good thing the safe house owner knew her - at least they knew they had her loyalty.

"I can hardly believe you recognise me," Jules resolved to say. She smiled when Brigitte placed two gentle hands on her shoulders as she took her in. Juliette was a lot older now than she had been when Brigitte had last seen her, and certainly much changed, but Brigitte was looking at her like she hadn't aged a day. It was a sort of warm feeling that settled into Jules' stomach at being looked at like she was the old, sweet Juliette who believed unfalteringly in the good in the world. The old Juliette who role-played princesses and weddings everyday. It seemed to be a lifetime since then, but standing opposite Brigitte, it had only been five minutes.

The French woman pulled Juliette into a tight hug, all the while voicing her disbelief at their reunion, before pulling back and scanning her once more. Then her face changed, as she seemed to realise that the fact that Juliette was here meant that she was a spy. Suddenly, that warm feeling was gone; with the look of poorly veiled dread that passed across Brigitte's face she was no longer that innocent little girl and was once more the agent who took lives on almost every mission, and who lied and manipulated relentlessly.

"You are a spy now, I see," Brigitte began, almost warily, as though afraid to say the wrong thing. She paused and then uttered a small sigh. "You are very brave. I can imagine your parents are very worried - but, oh, how proud they must be!"

Juliette looked away. "My parents don't know. You understand, of course, that -"

"Oh! Yes, of course. That was silly of me." Then she placed a hand on Jules' arm. "But you are still very brave."

Juliette smiled sadly. "Thank you."

"How do you two know one another?" Martin asked, looking between the two women cautiously.

Suddenly, all of the enthusiasm was back in Brigitte's manner. "Oh, I used to babysit little Juliette and her brother very often when they were small! I was a close friend of her parents - I had grown up on the same street as her father, you see - and when they lived here in Bordeaux I used to be their first choice of babysitter."

Juliette smiled. "You were always my favourite, too."

"She used to make me read - uh, I do not know how you say it in English, it is ' _Cendrillon_ '?"

"'Cinderella'," Jules supplied.

The woman clicked her fingers before continuing. "Yes, 'Cinderella'! She used to beg me to read 'Cinderella' to her over and over again before she would sleep. She used to love to play princesses, I remember that very clearly. I had always thought she would grow up to become one, for I had never seen a prettier princess in my life."

Juliette smiled and pulled Brigitte into another hug, suddenly overcome with nostalgia and the gratitude that here, right in front of her, was someone who remembered her as she was before the war. That meant everything to her, for it proved that that little girl was real and had existed once upon a time, before she had had to grow up and discover parts of herself that were better left uncovered.

After they pulled apart Alex got straight to work interrogating the woman on everything he needed to know about their safe house, its location, the activity of the Nazis, and any recurrent issues the Resistance had been facing recently. He was especially concerned about any information she had on how there had been such an extreme information leak so as to expose an entire team of spies.

Brigitte lamented that she had no information on that matter to share. "It is so terrible what happened to them. So terrible. I wish so much that I could have stopped it. But if I had tried the Nazis would have taken me too, and I could no longer help others like yourselves."

Alex reassured her that she had done the right thing in staying quiet, and that there was nothing she could do.

At this point it was still very dark out, the early hours of the morning meaning an almost eerie silence had fallen over the city. Still, Juliette dreaded the sunrise; they were to leave at first light.

Jules left soon after alongside Thomas and Alexis in order to get a visual on the building that was currently imprisoning the team of British spies they were come to rescue. The building was rather pretty, in the way that old French architecture generally was, and looked utterly mundane; one could never have guessed who it was holding hostage.

The trio took note of the guard detail: where they were posted, how long the intervals were between shift changes, and the routes they took in order to change shifts. Juliette knew she needn't bother herself with it, really, as she would be hiding in plain sight, but she wanted to know where Tom would be waiting to give her back up, especially since his timing was so crucial.

Alex briefed them both once more on their jobs, this time with the visual aid of the building through their binoculars, and Juliette and Tom both nodded along as they tried to get as familiar with the building as possible by merely observing it from the outside.

When they set back on their route to the safe house, Tom offered Juliette a smile. "It must be nice to see Brigitte again. She seemed awfully excited to see you."

Due to the early hours of the morning they had to keep quiet, and with the posting of Nazis everywhere to enforce curfew they had to stick to the shadows. However, Thomas and Juliette in particular had mastered the art of the inconspicuous whisper through all of their experience in the field.

Jules nodded. "Yeah, it is nice to see her. Strange, though. I never expected to see her again. I'd kind of indirectly erased her from my memory, if I'm honest, but it's nice to speak with someone who remembers the me from before the war, even if I was quite young when she knew me."

Tom smiled slightly, and she knew he could relate to that feeling of having lost part of yourself with the experiences you had had. "I can imagine."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, making sure they kept safely out of the sight of the SS guards and that no one was following them. After Tom pushed open the door to the apartment building and held it open for Alex and Jules, Alex turned back to her all of a sudden. He offered her a faint, though sweet, smile and placed a hand on her shoulder as though sensing her growing nerves through the energy she was radiating. "It's going to be okay, Juliette. I'll make sure you're safe."

Jules smiled back at him and nodded, grateful for the reassurance even though there was no way that was a promise he could make with absolute certainty, before following him and Tom up the stairs.

After having knocked the required rhythm on the dark wood of their safe house's door, Alex sent Jules another reassuring smile. This smile, however, dropped immediately when he turned to face Martin in the doorway, who had a grave expression on his face. Martin appeared almost ashen, as though he had seen a ghost.

He ushered the trio in quickly before shutting the door behind them and leaning against it. When Juliette looked from him to Will, who looked similarly pale and spooked, an icy foreboding clawed its way up from her feet to her stomach, settling in on top of the anxiety she already felt about the mission.

She glanced at Alex, who was looking at Brigitte, and followed his gaze to find the woman cowering in a corner, her hands covering her face.

Jules looked back to Martin with alarm written clearly on her face. "What's wrong?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 chapters because i have writers block and posting forces me to write quicker :)


	32. What Does Anyone Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?" - Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea

"Our clever friend here has been whispering to Jerry," Martin said, his eyes comprised of flames as they glared at Brigitte. Juliette's heart dropped.

"What?"

"After you left she slipped out to 'go to the toilet' and Will caught her contacting the SS. They're coming here right now to take us in. No doubt that's how the other team got caught."

A chorus of curses rang out across the room before Alex jumped into action. "Gather everything. Everyone on me. You're coming with us," he directed the last part at Brigitte. She looked up from where her arms were shielding her face like a spooked animal. Juliette couldn't even look at her.

"Are there any safe houses left that you haven't ratted out?" Alex hissed at the French woman, who nodded quickly and scrambled to her feet.

Martin clicked the safety off of his gun and pointed it at her. "If you're lying to us, you're dead. Do you understand? One hint that the Germans know where to find us and you'll die the most slow and painful death I can manage."

"I am not lying. I promise," Brigitte stammered out. Her eyes were downcast whilst tears streamed down her cheeks, whether from guilt or fear Juliette didn't know.

The group left the apartment building directly, exiting through the back door and keeping to the shadows, a locked and loaded gun pressed firmly against Brigitte's back. The French woman led them silently through the streets to a small semi-detached house and unlocked it, rushing in and waiting for them in the living room.

Tom and Will watched the windows after having locked the front door, Alex checking everything to make sure there were no listening devices or hiding Nazis. Martin grabbed Brigitte by the shoulders and shoved her into an armchair, pressing his gun to the centre of her forehead.

"What have you told them, then? Come on, don't be shy. You certainly weren't when you were snitching to the Boche."

Brigitte was visibly quivering, her bottom lip wobbling as crocodile tears spilled relentlessly down her cheeks. "I am sorry. I did not know what I was doing. I -"

"Oh, that's brilliant. You didn't know what you were doing. An accident then, was it? That the entire team before us gets caught in one fell swoop and before we can even do anything a radio transmission from your safe house alerts the Germans about the presence of spies." Martin bent down until he was at eye level with her. His eyes became menacing. "I won't ask you again. What have you told them?"

"I don't - I don't -"

"Brigitte!" Juliette snapped, and the woman looked at her in shock. Jules met her stare with freezing eyes, daring the woman to test her. She didn't.

"I have told them of some of the Resistance operatives. I didn't mean to! I couldn't help it! You do not know what it is like to live like this! You do not know what they can offer!"

"What else?" Jules cut her off, her gaze unfaltering.

"They know where some of the Resistance cells operate, but I have not told them of them all. They know of some safe houses - but not this one! I swear it to you!" She sobbed desperately when Martin pressed the gun against her forehead with renewed fervour. "They will not come here. They do not know of it, I am certain."

"What else have you told them? Come on, out with it," Martin pressed, his jaw clenching tighter with each passing second.

"I told them of some of my contacts in Paris, but I am certain they already knew of them." She paused, her eyes flickering briefly to Juliette before landing resolutely back on the worn wooden floorboards. "I told them that you were in the safe house, before we left. And..."

"What?" Martin spat.

The woman sighed loudly, a sound filled with both exhaustion and regret, before her sobs filled her words again. "I told them of the previous group who had stayed with me. The people you are replacing."

Juliette sucked in a breath, her eyes snapping to the woman and her throat constricting tightly. "No. No, tell me that's not true."

"Juliette, je suis désolé! Je suis vraiment désolé!"

"That's not enough!" Juliette erupted. She quickly tired to diffuse her anger, however; it was still the early hours of the morning.

"I didn't mean to -"

"Yes you did!" She was finding it very difficult to keep her voice down. She had to keep her voice low out of necessity, but she could project all of her fury, all of her disgust, into it. She stormed over to the woman and pushed Martin aside to stand before her. "You betrayed four people who were fighting to free you. You betrayed a whole network of Resistance who trusted you. You betrayed us!" She was panting, her words emerging shaky and hoarse. Her entire body was trembling. She fought back an angry sob. "You betrayed _me._ You knew who I was and you sold me out. You _betrayed_ me. And you meant to! So don't say that you didn't because you did."

Alexis entered at that moment and took in the scene, locking eyes with Juliette before turning to Martin. "How much do they know?"

"Locations of safe houses and Resistance cells, names of Resistance fighters both here and in Paris, and she sold out the team we're here for," Martin quickly explained.

"They likely know about Resistance operations as well, then." Alex sighed, running a hand down the centre of his face. "She's a liability. As soon as we leave she could go off running to them and describe us in vivid detail. She already knows Juliette's full name."

Juliette lifted her own gun and pressed it against Brigitte's forehead. The woman shrunk back into the couch pillows but Juliette only pressed it harder into her skin. "Juliette, s'il te plaît! Please! S'il te plaît! Juliette, I am sorry!"

Juliette's eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "I trusted you."

"Please! I did not mean to! I am sorry! Je suis -!"

The gunshot silenced her immediately. Juliette didn't flinch.

She paused, leaving the gun aimed at the woman for a few moments more before closing her eyes and lowering her arm slowly. She opened them only when she had turned her head to the side, her eyes seeking out Alex's instinctively. "She knew my parents," she explained quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't take the risk."

Alex nodded, and Martin tried to smile, though it was shaky and flat. "You did the right thing, Jules."

Juliette tried to nod but could barely move with the stiffness that had overcome her body. She turned away.

"Did she know anything of why we're here?" she asked, trying to get her mind off of the corpse sitting less than a meter away from her. The corpse of the woman who had played princesses with her and read her bedtime stories as a child. The corpse of the woman who had known her parents and treated her as one of her own. "Anything that could compromise the mission?"

"No," Martin assured her, his voice firm. "We made sure not to talk about anything just in case she started to ask questions. She didn't hear anything."

"Okay. How long do we have?" She looked to Alex expectantly, who checked his wrist and chewed on his cheek before he looked back up at her.

"Twenty-four minutes until you have to move out."

"Okay."

Juliette moved back out into the hallway and pushed into the first room she found, which turned out to be a bedroom. She paced for a few moments, trying to do whatever she could to keep her mind off of what had just happened before she halted abruptly and sat on the bed, leaning her elbows on her knees and putting her head in her hands.

"Calm down. You're fine. Calm down," she repeated to herself, her words getting harsher with each cycle. She said the words over and over until she realised they weren't working. Pushing herself up from her seated position, she soon resumed her pacing, covering her face with both hands before taking them off and leaving only the tips of her fingers pressed against her forehead.

She was panting again, the breaths not seeming to come fast enough for her to breathe properly, and the familiar ache of tears burned behind her eyes. Jules tried desperately to swallow the hard lump in her throat, biting down hard on her bottom lip when it wouldn't go away.

"Don't cry," she demanded of herself. She shook her head before removing her hands from her face and clenching them into fists at her sides. She needed to calm down. "Calm _down_ , Juliette, for God's sake!"

Shaking her hands out, Jules walked over to the small dressing table tucked up against the wall by the door and fixed her makeup, traces of black having begun to streak under her eyes and her red lipstick having smudged slightly. She stared into her own eyes until she felt herself resume some semblance of calm, and nodded to herself, as if reassuring herself that she was okay.

When she put a hand on the doorknob it pulled away from her, and she looked up to find Tom looking down at her.

"You okay?" he asked. She nodded, offering him the best smile she could muster, which was good enough for him. "Okay, good. Alex wants to go over the plan one last time before we go. We've got ten minutes until we're due to leave."

Jules nodded, "Okay," and followed him from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

She wondered if any of them could read the almost-breakdown she had just had on her face, but if they could none of them acknowledged it. She nodded to Will and Martin from where they were watching the windows before coming to stand before Alex with Tom.

"I know you know what you're doing," Alex began, looking between the pair of them in the low light of the living room; they daren't turn on too many lights for fear of attracting unwanted attention, "but the nature of the mission compels me to brief you one final time."

Both Jules and Tom nodded, and thus Alex began to reiterate to them each of their fake identities and what they would be doing, just like he had done in the truck in England. Though it had merely been a few hours ago, it felt like it had been years since they were last in Aldbourne. Not even five hours before, she was competing in another boat race with Tom and the paratroopers. The course of time was unfathomable. She wondered if any of the Americans had noticed their absence, or whether they were simply pleased that they hadn't had to hold up their end of the bargain as a result of their losses.

Briefly, she wondered what it had been that had sobered her up completely; had it been the jump into France, seeing such a distant friendly face again, or killing her? Regardless, any traces of the buzz of alcohol were gone from her system, and all of her jollity and contentedness along with it.

"Is that clear?" Alex asked, rounding up his briefing.

Both Juliette and Thomas nodded, glancing once at each other before turning back to their CO. "Yes."

"Right. Have you got everything ready?"

Juliette walked over to where she had placed her bag on the sofa before interrogating Brigitte - who she didn't fail to notice had been moved elsewhere, out of the common line of sight. She removed the forged documents she would need along with her papers for identification (also forged, naturally). 

When she returned to stand before Alex, Tom did the same, his own forged documents in his hands. Alex nodded once more. "Good. Are you ready?"

Jules and Tom shared a glance intended on both ends to reassure the other, and laughed lightly when they realised. They turned back to Alex simultaneously.

"Yes."


	33. Turn the Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Imagination, of course, can open any door - turn the key and let terror walk right in." - Truman Capote, In Cold Blood

Juliette pushed her shoulders back and tilted her chin up, keeping her back up straight in the appropriate posture to manifest confidence. With the necessary forged documents clutched tightly in her arms she kept her eyes locked firmly forwards, approaching the door to the building and the guards posted outside it as though she didn't expect to be stopped.

"Halt! Papiere," one of the two guards demanded when she got close. She turned an eye on him disdainfully, as though affronted that he had had the audacity to stop her.

Jules thrust out her identification papers with a sneer and rolled her eyes when the guard glanced between them and her repeatedly to check the information on there was true.

"Und warum sind Sie hier?" the guard asked. Juliette flicked her hair back before handing him the documents she carried.

She told him she was there to check on the health of the prisoners, and smiled sweetly when his eyes shot back up to her in shock at her knowledge of them.

"I am an undercover agent," she said in perfect German, smiling smugly as she looked between the pair of them, "and I have been sent from Paris to ensure that their safety both here and in transmission is maintained." She held out a hand for the documents the first guard still held and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

The man looked to his companion, who pursed his lips and looked away, before looking back at her and taking in the entirety of her, as if trying to decide from her appearance alone whether she looked like a spy. Eventually, with a resigned sigh, he gave the order for the second guard to let her in.

When she got into the building she was met with yet more guards in the entryway and proceeded to explain the same thing to them, adding that she wished to be taken directly to the prisoners without further delay as their transportation would be arriving soon. This lot of guards accepted her story and her forged documents much more readily, likely because the fact that she was inside meant that the guards on the door had also believed her. One of them lead her up the stairs and to a bedroom which was guarded by another soldier.

The guard escorting her explained the situation and she was allowed in, though when the guard went to follow her she turned back to him with the most disgusted expression she could muster. When he shrank back from her she knew it had worked.

"Ihr Vorhandensein ist hier nicht notwendig, Soldat," she told him sternly. She looked him up and down with disdain before turning back to the room before her. She heard his footsteps retreat before the door closed behind him, and smiled.

That was the first part done, at least.

There were three men sat in the room, all relatively unimposing-looking, though Juliette obviously knew better; all spies had to look unimposing, that was how they worked so well undercover. She walked closer to them and realised they were all handcuffed together, their chains interlocked behind their backs to make their escape impossible. They were all staring at her.

Jules came close enough that she could whisper to them and be sure that she wasn't overheard. She explained as quickly as she could who she was and why she was there. Naturally, however, the men were sceptical, as spies were always taught to be.

"How do we know we can trust you?" one of them asked, a slender, dark-haired man with a stern face that was aged beyond his years. He looked to be scowling at her, though Jules thought that this was perhaps merely the nature of his face.

"Well," Juliette began patiently, "you've already been caught, so I hardly know what further risk I might pose."

"She's got a point," another man commented. This man was a ginger whose face was covered in freckles so densely packed it seemed there were more of them than there were blank spaces of skin. He offered her a shrug when their eyes met.

When the stern-faced man still looked unconvinced, she sighed. "I hate to force your hand but what choice do you have other than to trust I'm telling the truth? You know as well as I do that what they do to spies doesn't bear thinking about, let alone experiencing." She offered them a small smile. "For what it's worth, I promise I'm telling the truth."

The three men all shared a look before the dark-haired, stern-looking one nodded once at her. "Okay. We'll trust you."

Juliette quickly explained the escape plan to them, making sure each of them understood where to look for the rest of her team in amongst the chaos. Right before she went to leave, however, one of them called her back in a pitched whisper. It was the one who had been silent thus far. He looked younger than the other two, with wide-eyes and floppy brown hair. He reminded Juliette a little bit of William, if Will wore glasses.

"There's one more of us. A woman. They separated her from us when we got here -"

"I know," Jules assured him, looking between each of them. "I'm going to see her next."

"But I think they've already started to question her," he added urgently. "You have to be careful about what she could have said."

Jules sighed, chewing on her bottom lip before nodding at the man, who was really more of a boy. She thanked him and then knocked on the door to let the guard outside know that she was ready to be let out.

When she was back in the hallway she asked the location of the fourth prisoner, and was directed up another flight of stairs and to a door at the end of the hallway on the left. She showed the guard her papers and documents and explained once more what she was supposedly there for before she was allowed into the room. She found two soldiers already in there with the woman.

One look at the woman and Juliette could tell that they had definitely already begun questioning her. Though she had no discernible physical injuries she had flinched back violently when the door had opened, and sat tied to a chair trembling, wild-eyed, and covered in sweat. Something about her countenance revealed to Jules immediately that they had been using a form of psychological manipulation on her to get her to talk whilst still complying with the demand that they leave the spies physically unharmed.

"You were ordered not to question them," Juliette spat at the two soldiers in German, injecting as much venom and authority into her words as she could muster. "I had thought this was a pointless mission but now I see why Paris sent me."

"You are from Paris?"

Juliette's scowl deepened. "I was told to check on your prisoners to make sure they were not being harmed. I see you have not complied."

"We have not touched her!" the second soldier protested, though one look from Juliette silenced him.

"You were ordered to bring in a doctor to check them for injuries. Where is he?" she demanded, crossing her arms and meeting the eyes of both guards in turn with fire in her gaze. _"Where is he?!"_ she bellowed at the lack of response, and had to fight a smile at the way they flinched.

"I do not know. That is -"

"Not good enough, is what it is!" she cried, taking a menacing step towards the one that had spoken. "I want him here _now_."

"Jawohl."

The man scurried out of the room and left her with the second guard, who was avoiding eye contact at all costs. The woman, who had resorted to sobbing and wasn't even able to wipe her own tears away due to how her arms were bound behind the back of the chair, was still shaking. Juliette had to look away to ensure her sympathy didn't give her away.

When the first guard returned he had Thomas in tow, who sent her a nod before hurrying over to the woman and beginning his 'medical checks'.

Juliette shot a fierce glare at the two guards and flicked her head in the direction of the door. "Get out."

"Our orders are to -"

"Get out!" she thundered, and they both flinched. When they stopped at the door to explain themselves to the guard there she turned back and scowled once more. "You try my patience." That was enough for the guard on duty to let them go, and he closed the door behind them immediately.

Meanwhile, Thomas was doing his best to console the woman who was still weeping in the chair. Juliette approached her slowly, as trepidatiously as she would a wild animal, and crouched next to Tom with a reassuring smile.

"We're going to get you out of here, okay? We're on your side," she whispered. The woman choked on her sobs when she nodded.

"I have a team -" she began, but Jules quickly hushed her.

"No, we know. I've already spoken to them. They know what's happening. We're going to get them out, too," Jules promised, placing a gentle hand on the woman's arm. "You have to listen carefully though, okay? You need to know what's going to happen."

The woman listened to the plan eagerly, hanging onto every word, and eventually her sobs had died down until she was merely sniffling every now and then. Juliette smiled at her gently once more before exiting the room.

Once the door had closed behind her she stared down the guards waiting outside. "Who is in charge of their transport?"

The three voices all stammered out a reply before Juliette simply ordered one of them to take her to him, and they descended the stairs back to the second floor before coming upon a study. Juliette burst in without knocking as a way to exert dominance and announced who she was, why she was there, and the fact that she was henceforth going to be in charge of the transmission of the prisoners from here to Paris.

The man, who looked to be rather high-ranking, stood immediately from his desk with a sneer. "I do not care _who_ you are, unless I am informed of such a change by my superiors I will not volunteer my position."

"I am not asking, Generalleutnant," she told him coolly, that icy look back in her eyes.

"Nor am I. You may accompany the prisoners to Paris but you will not be anywhere near the steering wheel, do you understand? Do not bother to ask again, my answer will be the same."

_Shit._

Juliette bristled. "I want the doctor to come with me. The way your soldiers have treated the woman has left her in some distress. I should like him there when I explain to Paris just why she is in such a state. Then we will see who is calling the shots."

"Then and only then," the generalleutnant retorted with a growl. "The doctor will accompany you. You will be leaving in," he checked his watch, "six minutes." This, she already knew. "Anything else?"

"No."

"Good."

And with that, she left. She made a beeline for the room she had found the three men in and shot a single look at the man standing guard before he admitted her. As expected, she found Tom in there, and she approached him with a look in her eye that told him something was wrong.

"What is it?"

"He's dead set on driving. He won't give it up. We're to go in the back with them."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"The other's'll have to work something out," Juliette spoke into the pause that followed, folding her lips into her mouth and glancing around at the room, her foot tapping rapidly on the floor. "They'll have to."

"They will," Tom assured, sharing a look with Jules that was filled with none of the certainty he had projected into his voice.

"Has she talked?" she then asked. Her eyebrows crashed down as she remembered the state the woman had been in when they'd come upon her.

"She says no, but I'm not sure she would remember." Tom ran a hand through his hair and tugged on the sleeves of his white doctor's jacket.

"That means more safe houses could be compromised." Juliette sighed out of frustration, hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "We'll worry about that later. Lets just focus on getting out."

"How long do we have?"

Juliette checked her watch. "Four minutes."

"I'll stay here. You go down to wait for the truck."

Jules nodded and spared a final glance at the three men before leaving the room briskly. She descended the stairs and made her way to the back of the house where she knew they'd be leaving through the back door to get into the truck. She prayed Alex and Martin would have a backup plan, because she certainly didn't.


	34. Quiet But Not Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I was quiet, but I was not blind." - Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Cries that the radio signal had gone down rang out simultaneously, a cacophony of panic echoing out into the silence of the early morning. Juliette hid her smile in the collar of her coat. Will had been successful, at least; with no radio signal, the Germans couldn't alert the Gestapo HQ of a lack of communication with the vehicle, which would buy them time in the long run.

Instead of seeing their lack of radio backup as cause for delay, the generalleutnant could be heard thundering out orders for the guards to hurry up with loading the prisoners into the truck, lest Paris find out that they would be coming to them late. Juliette heard him muttering bitterly to himself about how he would have enough of a headache coming as it is with what 'that fucking agent' was going to tell them, and almost laughed; getting on the nerves of Nazis was one of her very favourite pastimes.

Two guards led the three male spies out of the building, all of them now cuffed individually out of convenience, with two more guards trailing behind to ensure they couldn't be ambushed. They were shoved unceremoniously into the back of the truck, grunting when they hit the floor, but were quickly silenced by the guards. Tom followed behind them and waited beside Juliette for the others to emerge.

Two soldiers led the female spy out by her arms, and her mental anguish was evidently so intense that her body refused to function. Her feet were dragging behind her and her head was collapsed forwards. In that moment she reminded Jules very much of Claudette, moments before she had shot her, and she shuddered before glancing away.

It was the generalleutnant who emerged next, still grumbling when he sent a sour smile to Juliette before getting into the driver's seat, another guard climbing into the passenger side. Jules and Tom quickly bundled into the back of the truck before two soldiers followed them in and closed the doors behind them. Then they were headed for the checkpoint on the edge of Bordeaux.

Jules prayed that the others were in position and that they would notice it wasn't her who was driving soon enough to get the situation back under control. If they didn't, they were well and truly screwed; there was no way she could get to Paris still parading around as an undercover agent they had sent. She decided her and Tom would have to work something out when they got to the train station, though prayed that it wouldn't come to that.

One guard sat between her and the door, and another between Tom opposite her and the door beside him. As the truck slowed to a stop at the checkpoint out of Bordeaux, Jules and Tom shared a quick look. This moment was make or break. Were the others in position or weren't they? Had they realised what was awry soon enough or just a tad bit too late?

Chewing on her bottom lip, Juliette closed her eyes as she waited to find out. It was at that moment, however, that she heard Alex's voice. "Papiere, bitte."

The generalleutnant had obviously handed over his papers for there was a pause, before Alex asked him to step out of the truck.

"This is ridiculous! I am your superior!" the generalleutnant protested in fast German, but then Martin spoke up. Thank God for Martin, Jules thought, because other than 'papiere, bitte' Alex didn't speak a word of German.

"Get out of the truck, please, Generalleutnant. And your partner, too."

There came the sounds of both doors opening and then the distinctive sound of boots landing on the concrete, the generalleutnant grumbling out his complaints all the while. And then, the gasps for breath and small, shocked cries that were customary when you were stabbed.

Jules heard two bodies hit the floor and the sound of them being dragged into the checkpoint posts on either side of the road, where they lay alongside the real checkpoint attendants who had suffered much the same fate. She took advantage of the guard beside her turning to open the back door of the truck in his horror; after having expected a search at the building she hadn't been able to carry a weapon, and had to suffice with her hands around his throat.

Thomas had slit the throat of his guard and stabbed hers in the stomach once he was done. As the truck's front doors closed once more and they began to drive again, Jules pulled the knife out of the man's stomach and slit his throat with it as well. Tom and Jules pulled open the back doors to the truck simultaneously and pushed both of the guards out; this job would never have been secret anyway. The Gestapo would know what had happened when no prisoners arrived in Paris.

What they hadn't accounted for, however, was a truck full of soldiers to be following them, the faulty radio signal having made them suspicious. Just as they were pulling the back doors closed Jules caught sight of a truck much the same as the one they were currently in speeding around the corner, and slammed her door shut in case the guards in the front seats caught sight of her face. Tom did the same.

"We're being followed!" she called, hoping the sound would carry through the wall separating the back of the truck to the front. When they sped up she knew it had.

"Fuck," was all Thomas said, and she had to agree.

It was frustrating to be in the back, where there were no windows, and to have no idea what was going on outside. The truck all but swung around corners and sped through straight strips of road. Jules was certain the sound of the engine in the early hours of the morning would get them caught if the truck following them didn't.

A massive bang rang out. All of the spies in the back threw themselves forwards out of instinct, Jules landing underneath Tom.

All of a sudden they screeched to a halt and the back door closest to Tom slammed open. Before any of them could react Will climbed in.

"Fucking hell!" Thomas exclaimed as Will slammed the door shut behind him and they set off racing once more.

"I've never been so happy to see you!" Jules cried and flung her arms around him when he sat beside her.

Will smiled. "I'm glad you're happy. I just sacrificed our radio to pull that off."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

Will shrugged. "I saw the truck following you and fused my radio. Put it in the road as soon as you'd passed. They couldn't avoid it. It was a bomb as soon as they drove over it."

"Legend," Jules declared, leaning into him for a moment to express her fondness as she smiled.

He let out a breathy laugh. "I do what I can."

"How are you lot doing?" Tom asked the four spies they had come to rescue. Each of the men laughed lightly, much in a state of shock. The woman remained silent where she was curled in on herself, breathing heavily and still shaking somewhat.

Three variations of the word 'good' rang out and Tom, Jules, and Will shared a quick smile. But now what?

"Now what?" Jules asked.

Tom grimaced. "That's up to the bossman, I suppose. He's the one behind the wheel."

"We can't risk a safe house," Jules told Will when she saw his lack of understanding as to why they weren't following protocol. "They questioned her, but we don't know if she broke."

"She wouldn't -" the ginger man went to protest but Tom cut him off.

"You didn't see the state she was in at first. She's struggling now, but before..." he trailed off, not quite being able to find adequate words to articulate what he had seen. "We can't know for sure that she didn't talk, so we have to be careful about this."

"Do any of you happen to have a radio?" Will asked suddenly, and everyone in the back of the truck shot him a look of disbelief.

"Yes, the Germans decided to let us keep it, actually, as a memento for our days in the field," the ginger drawled.

Tom shot him a look. "Enough of the sarcasm, please. Okay? Lets not forget who's saving who here."

"We'll have to split up," announced the dark-haired, stern-looking man, who looked graver now even than he had when Jules had first encountered him. "If we get caught there's no use in two full teams being taken in."

"Getting caught is not an option," Juliette told him seriously. "For either of us. If you get caught again you have to use your cyanide. You know too much."

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between all of them that she was speaking about the Allied invasion of France, though none of them verbally acknowledged it; such was the way of spies.

It was only then that Juliette remembered their handcuffs.

When they finally slowed to a stop, this one much smoother than the last, Jules used her fake glasses to pick the locks of the handcuffs on each of them in turn.

After they had all filed out of the truck, they each began wordlessly following Alexis. Even to strangers, it appeared, he exuded the sort of authority that made you want to follow him, as opposed to the kind that forced you to. They wove through streets in silence, the world beginning to wake up with the growing influence of sunlight. Eventually, they turned into a forest.

They walked and walked and walked until, all of a sudden, Alex stopped and turned back to them. He had seemingly come to the same conclusion as the other team's leader; they would have to split up. It was too risky to have that many spies altogether.

The team of four spies came to face the team of five, and they each offered small smiles.

"Thank you," the stern-looking man told them sincerely, looking to Juliette and Thomas in particular to express his gratitude, as he had interacted with them the most.

Juliette smiled back at him, and then shared it with the others, too. "Good luck," she bid them, and each of the four, even the broken woman, moved down the line of five to shake their hands.

Jules made sure to offer the woman her gentlest smile, placing a hand on her arm and giving her a nod before she moved on. Through her Juliette had indirectly gotten a taste of just what the Nazis were liable to do to the spies they captured, or at least the female ones. And though what she had seen hadn't even been the tip of the iceberg, it was enough to convince her that, should she ever get caught, she would use the cyanide. There was no longer any doubt in her mind.


	35. How Were We to Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?" - Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

Stranded in France behind enemy lines was most certainly not how Juliette wanted to be spending her Christmas, though she could hardly say it was the first time she'd celebrated the holiday this way. She tried to be grateful for the company she was in, but to be quite honest, they were starting to get on her nerves, just as she was sure she was getting on theirs.

The team of five had been stuck in France for four weeks. With no radio after Will had had to turn it into a bomb to get a truck full of SS off of their tail, and no resources beyond what they carried, they were stuck in a sort of never ending nightmare. One, incidentally, that Juliette had thought she'd woken up from when they had been told they'd be spending their off-duty time in Aldbourne. Just as though they had never been pulled off of the line at all, they were back to 24/7 duty, though this time without the added luxury of safe houses or Resistance contacts. They couldn't trust anyone outside of themselves after what had happened with that female spy and her interrogation. And that wasn't to mention Brigitte, the Resistance contact who had betrayed them. Juliette thrust that particular memory violently away.

At least, she thought, in the field it was easier to forget. Spending so much time in the tranquillity of Aldbourne meant she had been left alone with her thoughts far too often for her liking. This way, she had to be permanently on guard, looking twice over each shoulder and keeping a hand on her weapon (which had been generously stolen for her by Alex).

She wondered whether they'd ever return to Aldbourne, and suddenly missed the time when her primary worry had been the rotten headache she was bound to end up with the next morning if she allowed Tom to drag her into another drinking competition. She felt the ache of nostalgia like a punch to the gut. How easy it always was to take things for granted, even when she knew better.

Oh, to be sat in an infinite field with Eugene Roe, talking about nature like it was art.

She wondered what the Americans thought of their absence. She hoped George's date with Mary-the-barmaid had gone okay, and that Gene was trying to allow himself to make a friend or two among the men he was due to serve with. She hoped Malarkey had finally won himself a drinking competition now that her and Tom were absent, and smiled to herself because she knew he wouldn't have. She hoped Bill and Toye were still as thick as thieves, and that Skip and Penkala were still causing trouble.

When had she come to like them enough to miss them as she did? Jules shook her head at herself. Somewhere along the line she had grown too fond. Perhaps this was the universe's way of telling her that that was a problem. How silly of her to let herself believe she was anything other than a weapon for the war machine. Now, more than ever, she understood that it wasn't just a life after the war that was forbidden for her, but a life outside of it at all, and how cruel a thought that was.

They had been alternating between walking on foot and stealing cars to get as far away from Bordeaux as they could. After all, to be a spy in Bordeaux after what they had done was to be standing with both feet planted firmly in the grave. They were bound for La Rochelle, a city somewhat close to Bordeaux which Juliette had visited as a child; her paternal grandparents had lived there once upon a time, though they were long since dead and buried. Really, they just sought civilisation so they could blend in, and as it happened La Rochelle was a city not completely overrun by Nazis, but busy enough that they could steal a radio without arising too much suspicion. It was still on the coast, as well, so they held out hope that after getting a message back to their headquarters they might be able to be picked up.

After four weeks of radio silence on their end, however, Jules thought that HQ must have written them off as KIA.

The streets would be quiet for Christmas day, and thus they couldn't risk being stopped and questioned as one of the only cars on the road, or some of the only pedestrians. They had had to seek refuge in another forest for the time being.

Jules saw in the Christmas of 1943 in complete silence, staring into the unforgiving void of darkness and listening intently for potential approaching footsteps. She was on watch for the first few hours of Christmas Day, and she tried to think of the silence as peaceful instead of foreboding. When she saw Alexis stir in her periphery she looked to him, and watched as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered to him through the darkness.

He smiled slightly, still a bit groggy. "Merry Christmas, Juliette."

Alex offered to take over on the watch but Jules shook her head. "I don't think I could go to sleep even if I wanted to." She shot him a whisper of a grin. "It's all that Christmas morning excitement, you know?"

Alex chuckled under his breath and shook his head, taking a seat on the ground beside her where she sat a little ways away from the group, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He huffed out a small sigh into the silence. Jules watched him in profile.

"How would you be spending Christmas if there wasn't a war on?" she wondered, and the makings of a smile hovered over his lips. As a rule the team didn't discuss civilian life, more for their own sanity than because of any orders, but sometimes it was nice to remember a time before war was their sole purpose in life.

"Well, right now I would be asleep in a warm bed, not even dreaming of waking up before eleven." The both of them laughed here. "But then I'd go downstairs and make breakfast for my mother and bring it up to her - she's a late riser, too - and I'd sit on the end of her bed whilst she ate and discuss mindless things with her. We'd always wait until after dinner to exchange gifts. She'd likely get me something terribly ugly with my initial printed across it, but I'd love it anyway. I'd get her perfume, because that's what she loves to receive as a gift the best. And we'd spend the evening around the Christmas tree together."

Juliette smiled softly. "That sounds nice. Your mum sounds lovely."

Alex nodded, one of his rare, earnest smiles on his lips. "She is. You'd have loved her. And she'd adore you."

"Really?"

"Definitely," Alex replied, finally meeting her eyes. He wore an uncharacteristically open expression, wide-eyed and smiling softly. He looked much younger this way. More boyish. "How would you be spending it?"

Jules laughed a little bit, smiling to herself. "Well, contrary to you, my brother and I would be up probably within a couple of hours. No matter how old we got we always used to discuss before we went to bed on Christmas Eve what time we were going to wake up. Generally it would be around six, much to our parents' apparent frustration, though I'm certain they loved it really. We'd rush downstairs and wait for them there, sitting on the floor by the tree, and they'd traipse down a few minutes later, my mum making tea for them both first before coming to sit on the sofa. They'd both watch us open our gifts. My mum would put in comments every now and then to explain why she'd chosen one thing or another. My papa wasn't much involved in the gift-picking process - well, actually, he wasn't involved at all, so it was as much a surprise for him to see what we'd gotten as it was for us.

"Then my brother and I would give them their gifts. My mum would always make sure we knew how much she loved them, irregardless of what they were, though papa was always more reserved. He'd give a nod of approval, perhaps, but little more. That was just his way. We'd have dinner early and spend the rest of the evening just doing whatever. Oftentimes my mum would play the piano and force my brother and I to sing carols with her, which we always pretended to hate but actually loved. Papa would have gone to bed by this point. Mum would stay up with us, though; we never wanted Christmas Day to end."

A nostalgic warmth had filled her even just thinking about it. Jules pushed back the tears that had formed in her eyes and shot Alex a watery smile. He was smiling similarly back at her.

"Can you play the piano?" he asked.

Jules laughed lightly. "A bit. My mum taught me, and though she was a beautiful musician I didn't have even half of her natural talent. My artistic inclination leant more towards drawing and painting, so she would often buy me art supplies. She was my biggest fan, I swear." Jules giggled to herself. "She said they'd put up my paintings in the Louvre one day, and then maybe papa would finally take us to Paris." She smiled sadly. "I hope one day, after the war, she gets to go to Paris."

Alex didn't reply for a while. There was no point insinuating that Juliette could take her there or go with her; the survival rate of spies was 50%, and they all had the feeling that they'd outstayed their welcome where the Nazis were concerned. It was only a matter of time.

"You miss your mother terribly," Alex resolved to say instead, more of an observation than a question.

Jules nodded. "She was my idol. My favourite person in the world. She was always, always, kind, even to people who didn't deserve it. Always selfless. And she was so beautiful; really elegant, and she had these incredible blue eyes. They were so bright and so blue it was like looking at the sky." She sighed. "I inherited my father's brown ones, unfortunately, but my brother got the blue. His are darker, though. I've never seen eyes as bright as hers."

"Is your brother in the military?"

Juliette shrugged, glancing at Alex once before staring resolutely ahead of her into the darkness. "I don't know. He was seventeen when I left to become a code-breaker, which was in '38, so I suppose he must be. He would've been eighteen right on time for the outbreak of war. I can't see that he wouldn't have enlisted, though I bet mum would've begged him not to." She paused and then smiled suddenly. "I bet he's a pilot. We used to always play at pilots when we were younger, so I bet he's in the RAF. Sometimes I wonder whether he might be the pilot of one of the planes we jump out of, but that's a stupid thought." She quickly brushed the idea aside, trying to appear nonchalant. That was something personal she hadn't meant to reveal.

"He'd doubtless get a great shock if he was," Alex commented. Jules smiled, relieved he wasn't trying to lecture her on not being too preoccupied by the past. He was, after all, still her CO.

"Certainly," she replied. "They think I'm dead, after all."

It was a fact both of them had known - indeed, Alexis' family all thought he was dead, too, as it was customary for spies' families to be told as much so they didn't wonder why they never came home, or try to send out letters. Still, however, a sort of melancholy silence fell over the pair, both of them silently reflecting on all they'd said about home.

Juliette smiled slightly, in spite of herself. Though she had taken a lot of things for granted in her pre-war years, and indeed still many during wartime, she was confident, at least, that she had never taken her Christmases as such.

In the darkness of the forest with the barest hints of light beginning to filter in through the trees, beams of orange and scarlet gliding across the muddy floor, she sent up a little prayer for her family. She prayed that their Christmas 1943 would be spent together, and that they would be as content as they had been when Jules was with them (which seemed to her like a century ago, now). And, though she'd never admit it again, even to herself, she also sent up a little prayer that Christmas 1944 would be spent in peacetime, and that her and her team would all be alive, safe, and well. She wanted that for them more than anything else.


	36. A Mysterious Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is a mysterious attraction between us and heaven. God wants us, and we want God. I don't know what bird this is that keeps flying about my head. I hear it almost without seeing it; it is dark." - Eugénie de Guérin, Journal of Eugénie de Guérin

The flickering of dull lights. The muffled sound of vibrant chatter and music. Sitting around a table amongst her closest friends in the world. Counting down the final ten seconds in a whisper as opposed to a cheer, but feeling the same thrill of excitement regardless.

"Happy new year!"

It was different to how she thought she'd be seeing in her twenty-second birthday, but also the same. It was as though this very moment had been whispered to her in dreams, hinted at in the stars she gazed at even as a child. It was one of those rare moments that told you you were right where you were supposed to be, even if that wasn't where you expected.

It was like being on fire, but instead of feeling the burning, she only felt the warmth.

"Happy birthday, Jules!"

She was pulled into a fierce hug by Thomas, but soon all of them had bundled in. This was her family. She was blessed to be seeing in another year with them. They had only been hidden away in the dingy basement of the bar in La Rochelle for a few hours, but for those few seconds it felt like home.

"I love you all very dearly," Juliette told them when they had each sat back down again. She took care to lock eyes with each of them in turn so they'd know she was sincere.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all soft on us now, Jules," Martin joked, shoving her gently by the shoulder. "It doesn't become you."

She laughed. "Hey, it's my birthday. You legally have to be nice to me today."

"Legally?"

"It's an international holiday," she quipped back, her smile growing as she watched him roll his eyes.

"Not because of you, it isn't."

Jules shrugged. "That's by the by."

"It quite literally isn't."

They spent the next few hours of New Year's Day in much the same way, laughing and joking around with each other and allowing themselves to forget for a little while that later in the day they were being sent out again. After having stolen a radio, Will had contacted HQ to let them know that they were alive. Instead of sending them back to Aldbourne, however, their superiors thought it would be a more efficient use of their resources to send them straight back into circulation again. After all, they were already behind enemy lines, and there was no use dropping another team in in their stead when they were there and waiting for orders.

For the moment, however, they weren't spies, and they weren't undercover. They were just young and themselves, and that was the best they could manage to be.

Alex shut down the party at around three in the morning, telling them all that they needed to get some sleep before being sent back to Paris. The journey would be long but they would have to be split up on the train, and they couldn't afford to fall asleep. Additionally, they had to meet a courier at 0800 in order to receive their new identification papers and a fresh change of clothes, considering they had been wearing the same ones since leaving Aldbourne.

At the very least, however, Paris meant safe houses and safe houses meant showers. They just had to trust that they wouldn't be betrayed again.

Juliette had a rather unsettled night's sleep, worrying at the prospect of having to use another safe house and having to trust another stranger. She tried to remind herself that it hadn't been a problem before Brigitte, but the fact that she had known Brigitte and Brigitte had known her had only made the betrayal worse, and thus her anxiety along with it. She didn't like to be caught off guard.

How desperately she wished they were going back to Aldbourne instead, and instead of tearing away such longing thoughts she allowed herself to revel in the simultaneous sting and comfort they brought. Nostalgia could be painful, but it could also be warm and familiar and precious. She hoped the Americans were having a good New Year, as she wouldn't put it past them to be partying all night, especially with it being a Friday night (or, technically, a Saturday morning). She smiled at the mental image of them wreaking havoc in their normal pub, imagining the drinking games and the heckling and the laughter. She longed to be among them, safe in England with not a care in the world.

She longed for a lot of things, really, but that didn't mean she was likely to get them.

The train journey to Paris was long, but she was glad to have Thomas at her side throughout. Whilst they had all had to split up, it wasn't safe for Juliette to travel alone, so Alex had ordered for Tom to sit with her. They ended up sat opposite an elderly French couple who were returning to Paris after visiting friends in La Rochelle over the Christmas period. Jules thought they were most agreeable, if slightly sheltered.

The woman, who was likely around seventy and was very polished and groomed, gushed at length about how pretty she thought Juliette was and how lovely her and Tom were as a couple. At that particular comment, Jules had had to prevent herself from gagging. She loved Tom ardently as a brother. But as a lover? Revolting.

Tom, however, had grinned rakishly and slung an arm over her shoulders, simply to annoy her. It worked.

To the woman's credit, however, she had also been very kind. She had even gifted Juliette a red beret that she had brought with her, claiming it would go perfectly with her dark hair. Jules was touched by the gift and told the woman it was very beautiful, wanting to tell her that it was also her birthday but not being able to because her papers didn't agree. Still, she thought of it as a birthday gift, and she hadn't received one of those in years. It didn't really match with what she was wearing but she wore it proudly nonetheless. Sometimes people surprised her.

When they got to Paris it was bustling with activity, as Juliette had always known Paris to be, and she was unsurprised to see that it was still flooded with Nazis. At the station she bid farewell to the old woman and her husband, and smiled at their retreating forms as they walked away; they were clearly very much in love, and had been for over fifty years, they'd said. It made Juliette's heart smile.

Jules and Tom headed straight to the safe house they would be using according to the information they had gotten over the radio, and were met with little resistance or interaction on the way. They were the first to arrive and were let in briskly after exchanging the code words with the man who had opened the door, and the wait for the others was spent with fingers fiddling at clothes and shoes tapping on the floor.

It was Martin who arrived next, commenting offhandedly on how many more Nazis there seemed to be patrolling Paris these days, and he was shortly followed by Will, who grinned when he saw them all waiting in the living room of the small apartment.

It was another ten minutes before Alex entered. He ran a shaky hand through his hair upon entering. "Anyone else have any trouble on the way here?" When they all replied in the negative he nodded, his shoulders dropping with relief. "Good."

"Why? What happened?" Jules asked, eyebrows furrowing together as she watched him begin to pace.

"I think..." he began, and trailed off. He rolled his lips into his mouth for a moment before shaking his head and sighing. "I think the officer recognised me. He's accepted my papers for now but he told me to go and pick them up from the police station later on, so he's obviously sceptical of something."

"You don't think it's because of..." Tom wondered, his words faltering as his eyes darted between the four all looking at him.

"Because of what happened last time we were here," Alex finished for him, a nod punctuating the end of his sentence to let them know that he did, in fact, think that.

"Wait, I thought you said they didn't see you," Will spoke up, looking to Alex in confusion. "You said you took them from behind."

"Yeah, well, I thought they didn't, but maybe someone was watching. Someone I didn't see. Regardless, I think that officer recognised me, not entirely but enough to take my papers in. Which isn't good."

The man who owned the safe house, whose name, incidentally, was Claude, came back into the apartment at that moment, after having left as soon as he had let Alex in. He was clutching a piece of paper tightly in his hands when he entered the living room, and he looked to Alex warily before handing it to him.

"God damn it," Alex hissed to himself, nodding his thanks at the man before turning the sheet of paper around and holding it up so the others could see.

It was a wanted poster, with an illustration of a man on it who resembled Alex - not entirely, but enough for him to be vaguely recognisable. That was why the officer had stopped him. That was why he had looked suspicious.

"Fuck," Tom whispered.

Juliette merely sighed exhaustedly, leaning her elbow on the arm of the sofa and her head in her hand. Were they never to catch a break?


	37. A Lover's Quarrel With the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world." - Robert Frost, The Lesson for Today

Another wanted poster. This time it was Tom's. They'd been operating out of Paris for three weeks and all they had to show for it were two wanted posters depicting faces eerily similar to two of theirs.

Juliette had already had to cut Alex's hair, his previously floppy mess of dark curls now chopped as close to his head as Jules could get them with a pair of kitchen scissors. It looked a complete mess, but Alex had told her he was happy with it anyway. She appreciated the gesture.

When Will showed them all the poster Tom's eyes immediately shot to her. "You're not coming anywhere near my hair."

"I tried my best!" she exclaimed, a pout forming on her lips before she could stop it.

Alex sent Tom a fierce glare before trying to smile at her. "He's being callous. It looks great."

Martin snorted and Jules giggled once, not being able to help it. Even she had to admit it was rather remarkably terrible.

Then Alex seemed to set eyes on the poster in Will's hands again, for he quickly became serious. "Thomas, you can't go out again. It's too risky. When we get our next set of orders through I'll have Martin give Juliette backup. You'll have to stay behind with William and I."

"How thrilling," Tom commented drily, earning him a shove from Will, which made him grin.

"When _are_ we likely to be getting more orders?" Juliette asked, attempting to discern whether he had received the details for an intel drop yet. Alex looked at her and inhaled deeply.

"Tomorrow."

"Fantastic!" Martin cheered sarcastically. Jules chuckled lightly, though she couldn't say she disagreed with his sentiments. Three weeks of almost constant missions, and five before that of making their way from Bordeaux to La Rochelle - at this point, Aldbourne, the paratroopers, and her temporary civilian lifestyle were all a distant memory. Oh, to be Penny Williams once more.

"You'd think we're the only bloody team in Paris," Will commented. He ran a hand through his hair and looked supremely exhausted, though upon scanning the faces of the others she thought that that was a quality they all shared. Looking at herself in the mirror that morning had revealed dark circles under her eyes she hadn't seen standing out so boldly against her skin since before Aldbourne, which in itself seemed like a lifetime ago. With all the action they had seen since, however, Juliette supposed that perhaps the time they had passed was about the equivalent. She felt as though she'd led four separate, long existences during her time in the war alone. It was a unique kind of lethargy.

Jules shrugged. "Perhaps we are. There seems to be an awful lot of activity in Holland these days, and obviously there will be in Germany as well."

"We've been in the field for eight weeks," Will sighed out. His words were perhaps intended to serve as a protest though his tiredness made sure they never quite hit their mark. It was more of an extended exhale than an objection.

Jules smiled ruefully. "Just like the good old days."

A loaded silence fell over the room, the kind that wasn't entirely unintentional but when it settled, draped over their shoulders like an old, scratchy blanket, it didn't bring the peace they might have hoped it would. With the lack of sufficient distraction each person's mind wandered subconsciously to premature ruminations of what they would be sent out to do next, and whether someone else's identity would end up being sacrificed as a result. None of them said anything, but with the wanted posters a sense of heightened urgency had filled them; if they were caught and recognised beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was all over, in more ways than one. 

Juliette looked up suddenly from where she'd been watching her hands fiddle at her skirt, though she wasn't really paying attention to them. She glanced at each of the faces around her. Each was seemingly more grave than the last, and that was a sorry sight indeed. She tried to pull on her best smile and force some morale into the room.

"If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?" She waited patiently for their answers, her hands back to their fiddling, and was smiling idly when they all glanced at her. Their expressions ranged from blank to confused to bewildered. "Well?" she prodded, looking between each of them once more, all the while contemplating her own answer to the question.

"Vegas," Tom replied decisively, a smirk on his face. "I'd be a casino god and earn enough money that I'd never have to work another day in my life. Then I'd find the prettiest girl in the room and take her home with me."

"That's where you'd go _right now_?" Martin asked, his disbelief written plainly across his face. "After eight weeks straight in the field you'd want to go gambling and shag a pretty girl?"

"Start as you mean to go on. I'm taking this as the trip that starts my new life." He shrugged and his smirk only widened when he saw the expressions on the faces staring back at him. "Don't resent me for having the best answer. I'm sure whatever you come up with will be nice, too."

Juliette rolled her eyes at his antics, but she was smiling in amusement. Even though so much had changed, she could have sworn that he was exactly the same as he had been when she'd met him all those many years ago in training. She hoped he'd never change. 

"I think I'd go to Lisbon," Martin then supplied, seeming to still contemplate his reply even as he said it. "Warm. Peaceful. At least there's not any fucking bastard Nazis there. Yeah, I think Portugal would be nice."

"I'd go to Manchester," Will added, a small smile hovering over his lips. "Home," he explained with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I know there's not really much left of it now but I'd want to see if my family were okay. I like to think that they are."

Juliette smiled sadly. She liked to think the same of hers. Though for the both of them, it was uncertain; both Manchester and London had been hit hard in the Blitz.

"Alex?" Jules prompted when he didn't add his own dream destination to the mix.

He turned to her briefly before looking away again, though his body was still inclined in her direction. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I'm not sure."

"Anywhere you want," she encouraged, attempting to meet his gaze. She failed, however, as he refused to look back at her.

Alex paused for a while, though he didn't appear contemplative. "I'd stay here, I think," he said eventually, a guarded expression on his face.

Jules' eyebrows hopped up. "You would? Are you sure?"

He nodded, though he still wouldn't look at her. "Quite sure, yes." He offered no further explanation, and from his reserved countenance none of the others were inclined to ask for one.

"What about you, Jules?" Will asked after a pause.

A smile tugged at her lips automatically. "Aldbourne, I think," she confessed, leaning her elbows on her knees and cupping her chin with her hands. "I miss it."

"You wouldn't go home? To London?" Tom asked. When she looked at him he had his eyebrows furrowed as though deep in thought.

She shrugged. "I don't know what's left of London, and I think I've exhausted my capacity for tragedies. I think I'd return to Aldbourne, to that pub we used to go to with the Americans, and remember what it was like to be content."

Tom laughed lightly, not out of amusement but instead out of the sudden realisation that perhaps he wanted to go there, too. There was a sort of warmth associated with Aldbourne, and there was hardly a thing he loved better in the world than beating unsuspecting competitors at drinking games with Jules by his side. "I'd go with you, actually, if you'd have me."

Jules grinned back at him. "The more the merrier. You're most welcome to accompany me."

"I wonder whether anyone's noticed that we've gone," Will said, looking as though he was deep in thought.

Martin rolled his eyes good-humouredly. "I think they'd have to be rather dim not to, don't you, Will? We only saw them everyday."

Jules laughed in earnest, and suddenly felt Alex's eyes on her. She immediately turned to meet his gaze though he looked away quickly, and her smile faltered. She wondered whether she'd upset him with her question but chose not to pry. Hopefully he would be okay in a while, and if he wasn't then she would do her best to cheer him up. He had been somewhat aloof with her before, though not often merely in the midst of mundane chatter. It was confusing.

When, even hours later, it still seemed to Juliette as though he was trying his absolute hardest to avoid her, she resolved to seek him out. She found him gazing out of the window of one of the apartment's bedrooms, his view of the outside world somewhat skewed with the fluttering of the lace curtains that hung over the glass. She watched him for a moment, trying to analyse his countenance, before clearing her throat quietly and inhaling a breath, her eyes widening when she realised she hadn't really gotten this far in her plan. She didn't know what to say.

She ended up deciding on, "Alex?", which did the job of grabbing his attention. Although he turned to face her, he had his eyes everywhere but. They scanned the room at length, grazing over this object and that, and Juliette wondered desperately what had got him into such a state, and whether he would even tell her.

"Are you, um," she paused, and then berated herself for it, for he hated when she started to ask him something only to break off halfway through. She quickly hurried to add, "Are you okay?"

Alex startled somewhat, but otherwise remained unchanged in manner. "I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that," she began, stepping into the room and closing the door quietly behind her, "you seem to be a bit... I'm not sure what the word is. Unnerved, perhaps? Unsettled? I'm not sure, but you've hardly looked in my general direction for hours, and you seem to be doing your best not to even now. I was just wondering if I've done anything to upset you, and if I have, if there was any way I could rectify it?"

Alex sighed, a drawn out, resigned sigh, and shook his head more to himself than at what she had said. He rubbed his hands together as his mouth opened and closed in the search for words, though he didn't seem to find them, for when he began to speak he stuttered.

Jules' eyebrows crashed down in confusion. She'd never seen him like this. Well, once, actually, she had, and it was when they'd been reduced from a six-member team to a five. She didn't want to remember it, but looking at him now it was all she could see. Alex's face when he'd had to tell her, _them_ , what had happened.

"It's not you," he told her firmly, risking a glance at her face perhaps only so she would see his sincerity before turning back to the window and looking out once more. "It's nothing."

Jules pursed her lips, her eyebrows furrowing and her hands fiddling. She really couldn't even guess at what was wrong. Against her better judgement she approached him, laying a tentative hand on his shoulder once she had come to stand beside him. "Alex..." she began, then trailed off when she realised she had no idea what she could say that would either make it better or make him at least tell her what was wrong. He was forever an enigma.

Alex looked down at where her hand was placed immediately, his eyes unmoving as they stared down at her hand. She had half a mind to remove it before he placed his own hand on top of it and turned back to looking outside.

"Alex, I don't understand -" she started to say.

"I think I should've told you before," Alex cut her off, seeming to not even have heard her speak. He shook his head, wearing a rueful smile. "I think I should've told _myself_ before, too, instead of just - just denying it or trying to ignore it or... or..."

"Told me what?" she asked, trying to draw his eyes to her but his gaze never left the leaves of the willow tree swaying outside the window. He hesitated - she could see it in the clench of his jaw - and she flipped her hand around on his shoulder to give his a gentle squeeze. "Alex, you can tell me anything."

In an instant, he turned to face her and pressed a kiss to her lips, pulling back immediately with wide eyes to check her reaction. Juliette stumbled backwards.

"Alex -"

His face fell. "You don't want to kiss me." It was a statement, not a question. A realisation. Juliette felt his eyes on her but now it was her who couldn't force herself to look at him.

"Alex -"

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning away.

"I don't understand," she stuttered out and he shook his head.

"Sorry."

Jules tried to get herself under control, neutralising the shocked expression that had appeared on her face and taking a deep breath. Watching him standing with his back turned, the palms of his hands pressed against his temples and his shoulders moving up and down with his heavy breaths, she approached him slowly. When she was close enough she tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned she threw her arms around his middle and pressed her cheek to his chest.

A hug was all she could offer him right now. She hoped it would be enough.

It took a few moments for him to reciprocate the affection, but his hands eventually came to rest splayed across the centre of her back. She shut her eyes.

She hadn't known, or even suspected, that Alex had felt for her like that, and so she had never looked at him that way. But maybe... She thought that maybe there was a possibility. But she couldn't know just yet.

Jules stood in his embrace for a small while, and when she pulled back she tried to offer him a smile. She really was still shocked, but she didn't want him to see that. She thought that perhaps he was still shocked at himself for having been so bold.

Not really knowing what to do with herself, Juliette rested a hand on his cheek briefly before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her and letting out a sigh. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, replaying what had just happened, exhaling a small sigh as she did. She prided herself on being relatively good at reading people but she certainly had not expected that.


	38. The Power of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If I am to perish by the power of fire, At least let that fire be yours." - Ovid, Metamorphoses

As the sun set behind her, Juliette knocked on the door to the vast mansion, stepping back from the door and waiting anxiously for it to open. She was overly conscious of the laundry bag in her hands and what was hidden amongst the linens. She could only pray they wouldn't search her.

The door swung open with exaggerated vigour, the person on the other side clearly trying to demonstrate his annoyance at being disturbed through the action. His expression of disgust, however, dropped once he saw her, his eyebrows rising promptly. "Wer sind Sie denn?"

Juliette shook her head, feigning confusion. "I am sorry," she began in a thick French accent, "my German is not very good. I am here to change the beds. I am told you are expecting me?"

"I was expecting Simone," he returned, scanning her up and down unashamedly.

Jules looked to her feet, bashful. "Simone has become ill and has sent me in her place. I am sorry if this is an inconvenience to you."

The man smiled that shark-like smile Jules had come to associate with the higher-ranking Nazis. He opened the door wider for her. "It is no bother. The bedrooms are all upstairs. I would show you myself but I am in important company, you understand."

She nodded, ducking her head demurely. "Thank you, monsieur."

After making her way upstairs Jules checked every room to make sure there were no other people up there, servants or Nazis, and headed straight for the main study. She had to be quick about this because if she was caught there would be no way of explaining why a maid was lurking around a study that should have been locked.

When she arrived at the desired room she made quick work of picking the lock using a pin she'd hidden in her hair and slipped in undetected. Rifling through the laundry bag she found the lighter she'd hidden there, placed the bag on the desk chair, and lit it up. The fire quickly spread from the wooden chair to the wooden desk which contained many a locked drawer full of agent interrogation confessions yet to be analysed.

She slipped back out, leaving the door open for necessity of spreading the fire, and picked the lock of the second study. She set light to that desk, too, which took a little bit more effort due to the varnish on it and the lack of a laundry bag for assistance.

When she came back into the hallway the fire had already spread rapidly and she felt a blast of heat on her face which no doubt left soot on her skin. She descended the stairs quickly and silently, checking to make sure she was unobserved before she opened the front door and stepped out.

Just as her feet hit the ground she heard the distinct sound of the safety clicking off of a gun behind her, and then felt the cold barrel pressing into the back of her head. Her eyes shot up from the floor, widened in surprise.

"Going somewhere?"

She tried to give an obvious tremble. "Monsieur, when I came up the stairs there was a fire. I did not notice until it had spread. I was going for help."

"And you didn't think to tell us, the inhabitants of the house?"

"Oh, I am sorry, I thought -" she stammered out.

"I find it rather strange that the minute a maid I don't recognise sets foot in the house a fire starts, don't you? Who are you?" the man from before demanded coldly.

"Monsieur, we will burn," she pleaded, searching frantically for any sign that Martin was watching and would come to her rescue, though she hardly knew how he would pull that off.

" _You_ will, perhaps." In one swift movement he grabbed her round the waist and spun them around, pushing her back into the house and pressing the gun firmly into her spine. She heard a gunshot and all of the breath left her body.

This was it.

The gun clattered to the ground along with the body, and she turned, her shock visible on her face, to find the Nazi face-down on the ground, a growing pool of blood leaking from his head.

Screams rang out from every direction, all of the civilians who had been loitering on the road aghast at the sound; they didn't even know about the fire yet.

Jules bent quickly and picked up the gun that had once threatened her life. She ran across the road, ducking behind a parked car and only rising to shoot the next Nazi that emerged from the front door of the mansion. The screams intensified.

A body crashed into her and she glanced down to find Martin sprawling where he'd thrown himself behind the limited cover of the car. He scrambled into a crouch that mirrored hers. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Nice shot."

Martin grinned. "You too."

Both of them rose at the same time to take out the next two Nazis that emerged from the mansion, the bullets hitting their marks right between the eyes before they could even raise their guns. Martin grabbed Jules immediately after and they ran for cover behind a truck, ensuring they were no longer in direct line of sight of whoever came out of the mansion.

"With all the screaming the police will be coming," Jules panted out, checking the ammunition in her gun.

"Will cut out the radio signal," Martin replied, ducking around the side of the truck to shoot and then crouching again, "so unless a civilian calls them we'll be alright."

Jules gestured to the windows of the houses beside the one beginning to burn. "No doubt they're beginning to smell the fire. We'll be surrounded regardless." Seemingly in every direction, civilians stood watching the street from their windows, telephones pressed to their ears. They were in trouble.

"Fuck," Martin hissed.

"We need to go," Jules told him urgently. "Now."

More and more Nazis were pouring out of the mansion's front door, the fire obviously having spread to the downstairs. Jules and Martin ran to crouch behind another car without firing, hoping the men would be distracted enough not to notice the bodies lying at their feet.

This hope, naturally, had been in vain. The whizzing of bullets buzzed in their ears as soon as they left cover. They launched themselves to the ground behind the car, hitting the floor violently. Jules stood and fired two shots before crouching again, and straight afterwards Martin did the same.

"Where are the others?" she shouted over the noise, a constant stream of bullets now firing in their direction. Martin fired at them again before ducking.

"I don't know!"

The torrential rain of bullets firing at them was resisted with more bullets than either Martin or Juliette had to shoot. The pair of them added some shots to the mix before looking over their shoulders at their sudden assistance; Alex, Will, and Tom had managed to sneak straight into the middle of the shoot out through one of the houses' garden gates, and they had come out fighting.

Jules couldn't contain her grin, even as she ducked around the side of the car and fired more bullets.

"Police are on their way!" Tom shouted out to them over the noise. "We need to leave right now!"

"Which way?!" Martin called back.

"Back the way we came!"

Jules and Martin shared a look. She nodded once at him. "You go first. I'll cover you."

"Jules -"

"Go!"

Juliette rose to her feet and began firing blindly, hoping her bullets were blurring their sense of direction as well as hitting their marks. She glanced behind her just once whilst she carried on shooting to find Martin standing beside Will in the gap between two houses, now giving her covering fire.

"Jules!" Tom shouted to her and she sucked in a deep breath. It was now or never.

She turned and ran as fast as she could, her legs pumping faster than her mind could even keep up with. She barrelled into Alex accidentally and he caught her round the waist with one arm, pushing her behind him as he kept on shooting.

She began to try and drag him backwards with her, the others having preceded them in running. He stumbled, a cry leaving his lips.

"Shit!" Jules cried, firing in his place and flinging one of his arms round her shoulders. She began to drag him along with her, seeking cover via the house they had just passed. She made to stop and turn to check on him but he nudged her forwards.

"I'm okay. Keep going. I'm with you."

Jules bore the brunt of Alex's body weight and dragged them both as far as she could away from the street, zigzagging through roads and keeping an eye out for the others in the growing dusk, but the lack of light made it difficult to see.

Alex's step faltered and she turned to him, glancing down to where he clutched his side to find his white shirt soaked through with blood. "Oh, no. Oh, dear. Oh, no."

"Hey, it's okay," Alex mustered. He was trying to nudge her forwards again though he was leaning more and more of his weight on her by the second. "I'm okay, Jules. We have to keep going."

She tried her best to carry on and was just about to collapse when she heard the unmistakable sound of artificial crickets, and glanced right to find Tom, Will, and Martin crouched on the doorstep of a house with a door set far into its walls. The perfect concealment.

Juliette pulled Alex with her, too exhausted to say anything, and Martin and Tom took him off of her and lowered him to the floor carefully, making sure he was tucked out of sight. She fell to her knees beside him and peeled his shirt up off of the wound, gasping when she saw it still pumping blood.

"Hey, it's fine," Alex prompted her eyes away from it, staring deep into hers. "It doesn't hurt that badly. Try and get it out and we can carry on moving."

That was her Alex. A fighter to the end.

Jules tried and tried to fish out the bullet, sobbing out her frustration at one point when her hands were so slick with blood she could barely discern where they ended and where he began. She was relentless, poking and prodding and trying desperately to gouge it out, even using her lock-pick at one point. To Alex's credit he was mostly silent in the face of what must have been blinding pain.

She risked a glance up at his face, hoping to reassure him that she would get it out soon, but when she saw how pale he was, and how his eyes were already half-lidded, she stilled. Slowly, she forced her gaze back to the wound and shook her head, languidly at first and then rapidly, tears burning in her eyes.

"It's over, isn't it?" Alex asked through choked breaths. She didn't say anything, but the look of utter defeat that had fallen on her face gave him his answer.

Jules looked over her shoulder at where Martin, Tom, and Will were crouched behind her and her face crumpled. Martin rested a hand on her shoulder and Tom sent her a small, devastated smile, acknowledging that she had done all she could. He moved past her.

Sitting back on her heels, Juliette could feel herself trembling, her hands curling themselves into fists. She watched, not really seeing, as Tom leant in towards Alex and told him something, patting his shoulder gently before moving aside for Will.

Will had begun crying in earnest and kept shaking his head over and over. By the movement of his lips Juliette thought he kept repeating the word 'no', though the sound of blood rushing in her ears was so loud she couldn't hear anything else.

By the time he had reluctantly moved aside Martin had composed himself the best he could. He offered Alex one final handshake before turning away so the younger man wouldn't see his face crumple.

And then it was Juliette's turn.

Alex beckoned her forward with only a small, sad smile and a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. It took everything in her not to throw herself at him.

When Juliette knelt on the floor in front of him Alex's eyes were filled with a profound sadness, a melancholy she'd never seen before. And somehow, something instinctive inside of her knew it was saying goodbye that was tearing him up inside. He didn't care about death, but he cared about leaving them behind. She loved him so much for that.

Alex shook his head very slightly. "I'm sorry. I was so hard on you. I'm sorry."

Juliette tried so hard to swallow the lump in her throat, but there was nothing she could do about the tears.

"No, Alex. You couldn't have done any of it better." She tried her best to muster a smile for him. "I wouldn't change a second of any of it."

Alex's entire face drew up into a smile she knew must have used up more energy than he had to give, but it was a genuine smile, one that made her heart tighten in her chest; she would miss that rare, special smile.

"Juliette..." he began, his wheezing breaths making him pause. She knew it was almost over for him. Alex drew in a shaky breath and held out his hand to her. She barely even acknowledged it until he uncurled his fingers, realising he wanted her to hold it.

Shakily, Juliette reached out and placed her hand atop his.

"Juliette," he began again, smiling softly at her. "I -"

"No." She shook her head rapidly, bottom lip beginning to tremble. "No, Alex, don't say it."

His smile became tinged with a hint of regret, a hint of melancholy, and a hint of nostalgia. "You already know."

"Alex..." She saw the sincerity in his eyes and her resolve crumbled.

Her face started to scrunch up and she shook her head, seeing his kind eyes watching her and not being able to bear it. She gripped the hand she was already holding and then grabbed onto it with her other hand too, lowering her head down until her lips were pressed against his knuckles. Silent sobs wracked her body as her eyes squeezed tight shut.

"Now," Alex muttered, tears beginning to pool in his eyes as he watched her shoulders shake. He lifted a feeble hand in an attempt to stroke her hair but all he managed was to graze it before his arm fell limp again. When Juliette looked up, he was gone, taking a huge part of her with him.

He deserved better than this. Than a dingy street in a foreign country, and never having gotten to return home.

"Jules, he's gone," she heard Martin's choked voice as though he was on the other side of a wall. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Alex's, which were still open and looking at her, though they didn't really see. "He's gone, Jules."

"No, he isn't," she whispered, reaching out to graze her fingers against the side of his face, the same cheek she had cupped in that same hand only the day before. Her hand was shaking.

"Jules -"

"No he isn't! He isn't! He isn't!"

Juliette felt a pair of arms secure themselves around her torso and draw her up. She kicked and struggled against the grip. When she saw Tom reach over to close Alex's eyes she went limp.

She felt herself running alongside the others before she could even register having made that decision. It was already strange to look up and not see Alex leading them. Oh, how she wanted to just sit and cry and cry and cry until she couldn't cry anymore. But there was simply no time. They had to keep moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	39. So Short, So Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Love is so short, forgetting is so long." - Pablo Neruda, Tonight I can write (the saddest lines)

Being back in Aldbourne was bittersweet. It was all Juliette had longed for and dreamed of for nearly three months, but stepping back into that house brought back so many memories. Too many memories. Memories of Alex lounging in the armchair, watching them all shot back alcohol like it was water with obvious disapproval but a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Memories of him shaking his head at their antics in the kitchen, playing the mediator whilst her and Thomas argued over something stupid.

It had taken HQ a week to get them out of Paris. A week devoid of missions to distract them, because their faces were now all considered compromised, and filled with visions of poorly hidden smiles and reluctant laughs that they would never get to see again.

A whole week without Alex. Juliette didn't know how they'd done it.

Now that they were back they would have to lay low for a while. Juliette was silently grateful that she had an excuse not to venture outside; she didn't think she could bear to see smiling, unassuming faces. It wasn't their fault, but she couldn't take it. And something inside of her, an instinct to punish herself, perhaps, reminded her almost constantly that Alex had been shot whilst pushing her behind him. The bullet that killed him had likely been meant for her. She was overwhelmed by self-loathing.

The moment they all got into the house, which had that strange chill in the air unique to places that have been left uninhabited for a while, they crowded into the living room. Jules and Tom shared the sofa, Will sat on the floor, and Martin leaned against the liquor cabinet. They left the armchair empty.

They all looked utterly exhausted.

"Who do you think they'll make CO?" Will wondered. His voice had come out quiet but still sounded loud in the silence of the room. They didn't bother to turn any lights on, letting the moonlight filtering in through the windows bathe the room in a gentle light.

Tom shrugged. "Martin, perhaps."

"Or you," Jules suggested, idly fiddling with the trousers of her jump uniform.

"They might send us a new one," Will suggested. The words seemed to emerge of their own accord and before he had processed them, for a most horrified expression spread across his face as soon as he'd uttered them.

"I hope they don't," Jules mumbled.

Martin shook his head. "I don't think they will. We've been working together for too long for them to send in someone else."

"And that team we rescued only had four members," Tom added. They all nodded, hopeful that Martin would be proven right.

"How are we going to go about blending in again?" Jules asked into the silence that followed. She glanced between the faces of the others and looked to the armchair instinctively before shutting her eyes and pursing her lips; that would take some getting used to. "We're not supposed to say we're living together but how will we explain why we've all been gone for almost three months?"

They each contemplated it, looking to each other for answers that none of them had. This would have been Alex's call.

"I suppose we can't really," Tom replied eventually, running a hand through his hair and leaving it resting on the back of his head. "Even if we tried to explain it they'd be suspicious; who leaves their supposed home town for three months, and over Christmas no less? Let alone an entire group of people. It's too shady."

"So what do we do?" Will asked, his eyebrows drawn together. He looked incredibly young as he sat there, bathed in moonlight and sitting cross-legged on the floor. He had always looked quite young for his age, though; he would be turning twenty-four soon, and didn't really look a day over nineteen.

Tom shrugged. "Lay low?"

"What about when we get new orders?" Jules pointed out, leaning her elbow on the arm of the sofa and her head in her hand.

"And when we run out of groceries," Martin agreed.

Tom sighed and ran his hand through his hair once more. "I don't know." His exhaustion was clear in his voice. "I don't know."

Jules placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently, shooting him a small smile when he looked to her, which he returned. All of them were thinking the same thing: _Alex would know what to do._

"Maybe -" Juliette began after a while spent in silence, "maybe we can get Gene to help us?" When they all looked at her in confusion she shrugged. "He already knows what we do, so..."

Tom nodded, mulling it over. "We might have to." Then his eyebrows furrowed. "How would we go about contacting him though? It's not as though we can just leave a note outside the house - he wouldn't find it."

"I know where the army's medical supply tent is," Jules offered. "I could sneak in and wait for him there. The others have no need to go in there because it's just supplies." She paused, and then sighed. "But there _is_ a chance I might run into another medic."

The boys contemplated her words before Tom finally gave a small nod. "Right, I think we'll have to take that risk. For now, we're okay - we have enough food and I doubt they'll be sending us out for a while now that we're all considered compromised. I can try and do recon and gauge when Eugene is likely to be in the supply tent, and I'll send you when we're desperate. He's more likely to listen to you because you're already friends."

Jules nodded, relieved she wouldn't have to interact with anyone for a while at least.

"Does anyone know how Alex found out when there would be an intel drop?" Martin asked. Their faces all fell simultaneously.

Jules chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before speaking. "He showed me a telegram that time I had to go in alone. It told him when to expect it and who was to pick it up - i.e. whose fake name it was addressed to - and then I went to the post office in the village to get it. But I don't know where he got the telegram from."

"Maybe they just get someone to put it through the letterbox?" Will suggested, and in spite of themselves they all began to laugh.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what they do, mate," Martin told him through his chuckles, and Jules giggled. It felt good to laugh, even if it was somewhat empty.

They all retired to bed soon after that, each intending to sleep for as long as they possibly could, safe in the knowledge that they were no longer in a safe house with the risk of either a Nazi raid or being betrayed. And, of course, that they were back on home soil. Sleep hadn't come easy for Juliette after the events of the previous mission, but she hoped that the familiarity of her bed in Aldbourne might let her catch a few hours at least.

After she had cleaned her teeth, the boys letting her go first just as they always did, Jules sat on her bed cross-legged, the copy of 'The Velveteen Rabbit' that Martin had gifted her in her lap. A smile tugged at her lips as she gazed down at it, remembering the time she had sat in that exact position and Alex had come to sit beside her, holding her hand as she cried. It seemed a silly thing, now, that she had cried over a book, though Alex had understood - or, at least, had accepted that her sadness was valid regardless. She remembered the kindness in his eyes so vividly, and the small smile that had drawn up his lips.

She looked up to find Tom standing in the doorway, having felt eyes on her, and smiled sadly at him. "I miss him," she told him, and when tears began to pool in his eyes they began to pool in hers, too. Tom rarely cried. Ever. She could remember maybe one or two occasions she'd seen him cry in the entire time she'd known him. His tears only made her infinitely sadder.

He came to sit beside her on the bed, in the place where you would lay as opposed to on the edge of it where Alex had sat, and Jules rested her head on his shoulder. He rested his, in turn, on top, and she wrapped an arm around his waist when she heard him sniffle.

"Me too," he whispered, and she hugged him a little bit tighter.

For a little while, the pair of them just sat there, not speaking but not having to, because they understood anyway. They sat holding onto each other, listening to the sounds of Will and Martin getting ready to go to bed and the rain beginning to tap at the window, as if asking to be let in.

Eventually, after the steady rain had advanced to a pour and then calmed back down again, Tom sat up properly and wiped at his eyes. He turned to Jules and offered a watery smile, and then took both of her hands and squeezed.

"You and me back in Aldbourne. That's what you'd asked for, right? Where you wanted to be?"

Jules smiled slightly and nodded. That conversation seemed like years ago now. "Now we just have to get Martin to Lisbon and Will to Manchester."

Tom chuckled lightly and squeezed her hands again. She reciprocated it this time. "We'll get through this, Jules. You know that, right?"

She nodded, fighting back the tears that had sprung back up unbidden. "You and me," she promised him.

He smiled, earnestly this time. "Me and you," he echoed back to her, and squeezed her hands once more - for good luck, perhaps. He left after that, closing the door softly behind him and leaving Juliette alone in the darkness.


	40. So Much to Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dear March - Come in -  
> How glad I am -  
> I hoped for you before -  
> Put down your Hat -  
> You must have walked -  
> How out of Breath you are -  
> Dear March, how are you, and the Rest -  
> Did you leave Nature well -  
> Oh March, Come right upstairs with me -  
> I have so much to tell -"  
> \- Emily Dickinson, To March

"Jules?" Thomas called, knocking on her open bedroom door.

Juliette closed her book and looked up at him in the doorway, tilting her head to the side as she waited for him to speak.

Tom had his arms crossed loosely over his chest, one shoulder elevated from where he was leaning on the door frame. He wore a half smile. "Today's the day, Jules."

Jules laughed once, placing her book on her bedside table and leaving her hand resting there for a moment. "Did you manage to work out when he's most likely to be there?" she inquired, looking back to Tom curiously.

He nodded. "From what I can gather from the medic rotation they'll have him on inventory from 1700 to estimated 1830. Will you be alright sneaking in?"

"I'll just go through the fields. I'll have to leave early to make sure I'm there in time but the supply tent is on the edge of everything so it shouldn't be too hard. What are the yanks up to today?"

"Lectures, I think," Tom told her, smiling reassuringly. "The fields'll be empty, at any rate. They're beginning to train them in tactics on the ground - crickets, code words, things like that. My guess is it won't be long before they find out about the Normandy Invasion."

Jules smiled ruefully. "I feel sorry for them, really. They have no idea what's coming."

Tom laughed a little bit. "That was us, once."

"Excited and naïve," she agreed with a small giggle.

"And scared," Tom added.

"Terrified. But still so enthusiastic."

Tom laughed, in earnest this time. "We truly did have a death wish back then."

Jules shook her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She shrugged one shoulder. "We had no idea what we were getting into, really."

Sighing out his nostalgia, Tom crossed the room to the window. "God, how things have changed since then." He paused, fiddling with the sheer curtain covering the window before looking back at Juliette over his shoulder. "Do you remember our first mission?"

"Vividly," she told him. They'd never spoken of it, but she knew it still haunted him, too. "Baptism of fire, that one."

"Oh, yeah," Tom laughed, looking back outside. More to himself than her, he muttered, "God, we had no idea."

A silence fell upon them, and Juliette merely watched him for a while as he gazed out across the fields of Aldbourne. Eventually, she asked, "Would you still say yes? If you were back in that moment, when they pulled you aside and asked you if you wanted to train for a promotion, and you'd experienced everything you've experienced now. Would you still agree?"

Tom hesitated, and Jules realised that she felt conflicted about her answer, too; it had been an awfully long war for them, and an awfully tough one too. But would she take it back?

"I don't know," he replied after a long while of contemplation. He turned back to Jules and watched her for a moment before glancing at the bed sheets pooled around her. "Would you?"

Jules shrugged, a regretful smile playing on her lips. "I don't know."

She left the house in plenty of time to make her way through the fields on the outskirts of the village, taking the scenic route to what she had deemed the Americans' side of town. It didn't take her as long as expected, likely because she had been deep in thought for the majority of her journey and that made her walk faster. With the time she had to spare, she sat behind a tree a little ways away from the strip of pavement that she would have to cross in order to get to the army medical supply tent. She was content to just sit there for a while, and wait.

When five o'clock hit she made her way briskly across that strip of pavement and pressed her back to the wall of a nearby building as she skirted around it. She held back as she watched whoever had been assigned to the tent for the previous shift leave. As soon as the medic was out of sight she snuck in and tried to position herself strategically; she needed to stand somewhere that wouldn't be visible to any passersby, but also wouldn't give Gene a heart attack when he came in.

In the end she resolved to perch atop the table she always used to sit on when she had watched Gene take inventory before. It was strange to be back, not merely in the tent but in Aldbourne; she had already been back for two weeks but this was the first time she had actually ventured out of doors. From Gene's perspective, she would have been gone for just over three whole months. She wondered briefly whether he thought all of them were dead, but didn't allow the thought to progress much further. One of them was.

She took to fiddling absentmindedly with the skirt of her dress, rolling the fabric between her fingers and contemplating Gene's lack of punctuality - had he been held up in a lecture that had overrun, or was an entirely different medic about to march through the entrance to the tent and create a whole lot of trouble for her? She worried at her lip without realising she was doing it.

Then she heard a sharp gasp. "Penny?"

"Gene!" she exclaimed, jumping off of the table and straight into his arms.

He stumbled back a bit with the force and didn't react for a few moments out of shock, but she soon heard his low chuckle. He hugged her back. "Hey, chérie," he greeted, and she could hear the smile in his voice. That smile she had imagined so many times over it was almost as though she was seeing it; that small, bashful tug of the lips. "You've been gone a while."

Jules nodded into his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah. I didn't think we'd be coming back if I'm honest."

She stepped back from his embrace and watched as he ducked his head, still smiling but more reservedly with her eyes on him. "Well, I'm, uh, glad you did."

She smiled brightly. "Me too."

When he paused she hopped back up on the table, which made him breathe out a laugh, so he set to work on the inventory, just like old times. Jules felt that it must have been very bizarre for him, to be seeing her again - almost like seeing a ghost, perhaps.

"So," he began after a moment of checking bandages, "how have you been?" What he really meant was _'what the hell happened?'_ and Jules smiled just a little bit.

"Oh, you know, just -" she began, searching for words to encompass what had transpired since she'd last seen him. But she was struggling, because there was so much she couldn't tell him, and so much she wanted to. "You know what?" she resolved to say, shrugging her shoulders even though his back was turned. "I've been better."

Gene looked over his shoulder at her, and his eyes were sad; not sympathetic, necessarily, but sad. "'M sorry to hear that."

Jules smiled earnestly, because she knew he meant it. "I missed you," she said by way of reply. She grinned when he ducked his face from her line of sight.

"You did?" he asked.

She chuckled to herself. "Of course," she replied as though it should have been obvious because to her, at least, it was. It had always been a habit of hers to miss people dearly, regardless of how long she'd known them, and she'd certainly known Gene longer than most people she had come across during the war. She hadn't really even admitted to herself how sorely she'd missed him until she'd seen him again. There was something about that smile, she thought, that felt like home. And there was something about those clear blue eyes. When she had first looked into them again upon his entrance into the tent she had felt unexplainably warm, and that warmth had yet to leave her.

Juliette thought she could see Gene smile a little bit, taking a guess based on the subtle lift of his shoulders and shake of his head that tended to accompany his smiles. He didn't turn back to look at her. "I missed you too, chérie."

There was a short pause, the only sounds being the rustling of the plastic packaging on the bandages as Gene counted them and checked they were still sealed.

"I like when you call me that," Juliette said eventually, not really filtering the words. She was looking up at the top of the tent and trying to work out how it didn't seem to waver under the near constant stream of rain England tended to get in the winter months. It was March now, and she had missed the majority of the British winter entirely, as she tended to since being an agent, but she knew that that part of England would never change.

"'Cause it's French?" Gene wondered. He remembered what she had said the very first time he had ever called her that, back when he had been removing grenade shrapnel from her stomach as she writhed around on a kitchen table. "Feels like home, huh?"

Jules smiled. She didn't remember saying that, likely due to the morphine, but Alex had asked her about it since. He had asked her whether she wanted him to speak French with her more often, but she had said no, because it would feel artificial. She wondered whether she should have just said yes.

"Makes me feel safe," she agreed, a tiny smile tugging at her lips before she shook her head, as though dismissing all thoughts of nostalgia. "Anyway," she began, straightening up where she sat, "regretfully, I have a favour to ask you."

"Hm?" Gene prompted, glancing back at her once to demonstrate that he was listening before resuming his work.

"Officially, I'm not here," she confided, speaking matter-of-factly. "See, we weren't supposed to be gone for so long, and now that we're back we have a problem in that there's basically no way for us to explain to the others why we all just up and disappeared for three months."

Gene nodded. "I see how that could be an problem."

"So," Jules continued, having to force the words out against her will - she really hated asking for favours, "that would mean we would have a supremely difficult time of leaving the house to get, say, groceries, or post, so on and so forth..."

Gene chucked under his breath and glanced back at her. "So you want me to do it?"

"I'm really, really sorry to have to ask!" she burst out, and she really did look incredibly regretful. "I wouldn't ask if there was any alternative, but you're the only one who knows and there really isn't any other way. Plus, it would likely only be a temporary thing until we can work out what to say. Maybe, say, once or twice?" She was lying through her teeth, there, but that was what she was best at; lies seemed to spill out of her automatically when she didn't know what else to say. It couldn't be helped.

"Alright," Gene told her by way of agreement.

She sighed out her relief loudly. "Oh, Gene, you're a godsend! An angel!" she exclaimed. She wished she could offer him something in return but her hands were positively empty, both physically and metaphorically. "Thank you so much! We'll give you everything you need, of course - money, et cetera. You'll be like a courier of sorts."

Gene laughed quietly. "It's not a problem."

Jules smiled broadly at the back of his head. "You really are doing us such a massive favour. Is there any way we might pay you back?"

He brushed her away. "No, I told ya, it really ain't a problem. I don't mind."

She rolled her eyes at his insistence on not being repaid. "Well, think about it, at any rate. And if you come up with something and we're able to do it or get it for you, we will." Gene went to protest and she laughed. "Just think about it!"

"Alright! I'll think about it!"

"Good." She smiled proudly in her victory.

Jules knew she had to be getting back soon otherwise she'd be risking running into some of the other paratroopers, and then all of it would have been for nothing. But just as she was about to bid him goodbye, a thought popped into her head. "Oh! Did you have a good Christmas, by the way?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah. It was nice." He faltered in his organising and turned to face her where he sat, dropping the bandage he was holding. "How was yours?"

Jules shrugged a little bit, thinking back on the conversation she'd had with Alex in the forest just outside of Bordeaux. "It was spent in good company," she told him, and offered up little else. 

Juliette bid Gene goodbye a small while later, telling him once more how glad she was to see him and thanking him profusely for his willingness to help them out. Gene watched her retreat through the opening in the tent, thinking about how much duller her smiles seemed to be now. They still appeared just as often, which he was sure was just a habit of hers - something she did without thinking - but there was something sad flitting in her eyes now. He wondered what had happened in the three months she'd been gone, and whether that brightness he had come to associate with her would ever return.


	41. Secrets Weary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned." - James Joyce, Ulysses

For Juliette, missing Alex was like the English weather; there were good days and there were bad days. Whereas her usual coping mechanism was to try to ignore what had happened as much as she could until she could mostly forget about it, that was impossible this time. After how long he had been around and how long they had spent together in that house in Aldbourne, he was everywhere.

There were times she could have sworn she heard him laugh quietly from what had once been his bedroom - that small, brief chuckle he did only when he couldn't help it. A few times she had even opened the door to check, though she had come up short every time. And every time she berated herself for believing something that she actively knew to be impossible; she had watched him die, felt his body go limp under her hands, and, regardless, they had left his body behind in Paris. And yet, each time, some small flicker of hope ignited itself in her chest and wouldn't leave her alone until she saw that the room was empty with her own two eyes.

It was difficult seeing everything still set up exactly as he'd left it; the bed was made with the special precision he had always used, his clothes still in the wardrobe. None of them dared to touch anything, although the thought that the bed sheets might still smell like him haunted her. It was a curiosity she wouldn't satisfy, however. Because if she was wrong, it would feel like he'd never been there at all, and that would be more painful than anything else.

This time, it wasn't just that she couldn't forget, it was that she didn't want to. She needed to remember him. There were no two ways about it.

Each of the four friends Alex had left behind coped with his absence differently, which was cause for many of the arguments which now plagued them. Where Alex had often been the keeper of peace, things now were very obviously more volatile. It was incredibly easy for them to get on each other's nerves, especially with their inability to leave the house.

Tom tried to keep the peace as best he could, but even he was irritable with the desire to get out of doors. They had been cooped up for what seemed like months, even though it was merely a few weeks, and he took his one outing per week for reconnaissance very seriously. He was out for hours at a time.

To his credit, however, Tom did a brilliant job of checking in on the others. He was a steady, reassuring presence in a time of such uncertainty. Jules just worried that he was trying to keep such a brave face for them all that sooner or later he would crash. She tried to let him know that she was there for him as much as possible, and checked in regularly to make sure he was sleeping okay and eating enough. He never really wanted to speak about Alex, but he was always enthusiastic to talk about mundane things and crack jokes. They were all mere shells of who they'd been the last time they were in England, but at least Tom still had his sense of humour.

One afternoon, just after Tom had gotten back from his reconnaissance trip, Jules knocked on his open bedroom door and smiled softly when he looked up.

"Anything interesting?" she asked of his trip. She took a seat on the small chair in the corner of his room and tucked her legs up underneath her.

Tom laughed a little bit. "The yanks are doing lots of hand-to-hand combat these days. They're training them for survival on the ground."

Jules chuckled. "They any good?"

"Could use some work, but they've got the enthusiasm alright." Jules laughed along with him and when the laughter faded he sighed. "They still haven't been told about the invasion, but there are whispers. I'm pretty sure they know by now that they'll be helping to invade France. My guess is they won't be told until a couple of days before."

"Thirty-first of May, isn't it?" Jules wondered, and he nodded. "So they shouldn't find out until at least around the twenty-sixth I would've thought. They've got plenty of time yet."

"We'll probably be sent out again before then." When she tilted her head inquisitively at him he shrugged. "As we get nearer to the invasion the Allies'll want to really make sure the Germans are focusing their artillery on Calais. Plus, Hitler's still building his Atlantic Wall, so I reckon we could be sent out to destroy parts of it."

Juliette nodded her understanding. "They'll be reluctant to send us back undercover for a while, so that makes sense."

A stagnant pause fell over the pair, and indeed there seemed to be more of those in the air recently than ever before - almost as though they were leaving the space blank for input from another party - before Jules felt Tom's calculating gaze on her. She met his eyes with raised eyebrows and he frowned.

"Have you eaten yet today?" Jules rolled her eyes and went to reply before he added, "Don't lie to me."

That stopped her in place. She looked away. He was always the most difficult to lie to.

Tom sighed. "You have to eat, Jules."

Juliette began to chew on her bottom lip. "I know," she admitted quietly. "It's not that I'm purposely not eating, it's just - the thought of eating anything makes me want to be sick." She met his eyes hesitantly and frowned when she saw his disapproval.

Tom maintained eye contact vigilantly for a few moments before murmuring, "He wouldn't want you to make yourself suffer."

Jules' heart wrenched, as it always did when someone brought up Alex, and she could see the despair she felt mirrored in Tom's eyes. "I'm not doing it deliberately," she promised. She shook her head as she searched for the words to explain to him what was going on. "I just - I just _can't_ , Tom. I don't know why, I just can't."

Tom nodded and ran a hand through his hair, running his tongue over his bottom lip before entreating, "Will you at least try? For me?" After noticing her conflicted expression he rushed to add, "Just something small."

Jules sighed. She really wanted to do it for him, if only just to make him stop worrying, but her reluctance to eat wasn't out of choice. "I don't know -"

"I'll tell Eugene on you," he threatened.

She stilled. "You wouldn't."

His eyes glinted in challenge. "Try me."

Jules breathed out a laugh. "Fine, I yield. I'll try. But if I throw up all over you that's on you."

"Literally," he replied, and she giggled.

When the pair of them descended the stairs to make their way to the kitchen, Will was scrubbing the table. Jules' eyes saddened when they fell on him. She sent him a small smile as he glanced up, but she tried not to let her gaze linger too long; they all coped differently, and if meticulously cleaning everything to acquire a sense of routine was what Will needed to feel better then who was she to deny him that?

She did wonder, distantly, whether they would need to collectively intervene at some point lest he make it a habit that goes on forever, or whether his preoccupation would calm with time. But she figured that that was a question for another day, and one to ask when Will wasn't present. She hated people fussing over her and figured that if she wouldn't appreciate it then he probably wouldn't either.

Jules hopped up on one of the kitchen counters, not wanting to sit at the table and risk disturbing Will in his work. She let Thomas peruse the cupboards in pursuit of something that wouldn't make her want to vomit.

She really did try not to be too picky, but with each option she felt her stomach twist further, the feeling of nausea crawling its way up her throat. She really, really didn't want to be sick.

"Eugene's coming to drop groceries off in a bit. Perhaps we should wait for him?" Tom proposed, resting his pointer finger on his chin thoughtfully whilst Jules fidgeted.

"I'm trying, Tom," she told him, her tone pleading. "It's just difficult."

"Well, rationing means we don't have an awful lot of choice, unfortunately. And none of us can cook anything that would be even halfway edible, so it's the bare essentials or nothing, I'm afraid."

Jules shrugged. "We probably _should_ try cooking, really." Alex had always done it for them - another one of the many gaps they now struggled to fill in his absence.

Tom snorted. "Not with your track record."

Juliette rolled her eyes. "It was only about three times, okay? And it was years ago. And I'll have you know that my kitchen ban was lifted last year!"

"Your _what_?"

"Oh, hi, Gene." She smiled innocently at him, as though her and Thomas hadn't just been discussing her previous culinary disasters. "Didn't hear you come in."

It was Martin that had let him in - naturally, considering the rest of them had already been in the kitchen. As soon as he had seen Gene in he left, offering the others a nod of acknowledgement before disappearing upstairs.

"To answer your question," Tom breezily added, ignoring the daggers Jules sent him, "our little angel has set fire to three separate kitchens and thus earned herself a kitchen ban from our CO."

"An expired ban," Jules muttered, crossing her arms. "But, please, by all means, if you're going to try to perpetuate my ban then you have a go at cooking. We'll see how you do."

Gene rolled his eyes at them and set their groceries on the counter; they always seemed to be bickering when he came in. Jules, Tom, and Will all thanked him as he turned back to them. He gave them a small smile but no words, as he often did when they offered their thanks.

"What's transpired since I saw you last?" Jules wondered. She tilted her head as she watched Gene lean against the counter opposite the one she sat on; it was customary for her or Thomas to try to engage him in conversation when he was about, so he had taken to resigning himself to wait for it. "Anything interesting? Anything _exciting_?"

Gene quirked a smile. "Excitin'? No. But they had us on hand-to-hand combat today."

Tom and Jules shared a secret smile, but Gene was oblivious to Tom's reconnaissance so they didn't say anything.

"Are you any good at it?" Jules inquired, swinging her legs where she sat.

Gene shrugged. "I guess I'm alright. A lotta the guys are better."

"So modest," Tom commented through a slight chuckle. "How are the others, by the way?" He was desperate to see them, but circumstances didn't allow for it. It was almost torture for him.

Gene smiled to himself. "They're good. Causin' as much trouble as always." He paused a moment and looked between Jules and Tom carefully, as though he was about to say something he wasn't sure they would permit. "You ever gonna tell 'em you're back?"

Jules looked to Thomas, who pulled a face and sighed. "We're still working on an excuse. In an ideal world, yes, but..." _It's never that easy._

In the pause that followed Will walked past and put away his cleaning supplies, tossing his sponge in the sink, which Tom complained about. Juliette messed up his hair as he passed her, which earned her what was essentially half a glare and half a grin. He then seemed to look around the kitchen for something else to polish.

Jules sighed. "I think you've scrubbed everything," she told him gently, offering him a soft smile.

Will looked to her with drawn eyebrows and his lips pursed before he released all of the tension in his body, his shoulders relaxing along with his facial expression. He nodded.

"How are you guys holdin' up these days?" Gene asked, looking between the trio curiously.

They all three shrugged simultaneously. "Fine."

"Actually -" Tom began with a sly look, and Jules' eyes shot to him immediately. _He said he wouldn't._

"Thomas!" As soon as the word had left her, her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, shit," she said, the words emerging muffled through her hand.

Will didn't seem to catch onto what the problem was, but after a moment Tom certainly did. "Ah, fuck, Jules."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Jules exclaimed, and then Tom and Will simultaneously realised his error.

"Oh, dear," Tom commented with a sheepish smile.

Will shrugged. "Well, we were bound to slip up eventually." He glanced behind him, to the door to the kitchen, and then turned back with a small laugh. "Just don't tell Martin. Oh!"

"Jesus Christ," Tom muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

Jules still had her hand covering her mouth, but as she looked between Tom, Will, and Gene she slowly lowered it and began to laugh. "Well, I guess you know all of us now," she said to Gene.

Will grinned. "Apart from me!"

"Shut it, _William_ ," Tom snarked.

Will's smile fell. "Oh."

Gene was trying desperately to hide his grin, and it was probably the most amused Juliette had ever seen him look. She grinned in turn.

"I won't tell," he vowed, shaking his head after a moment. "Think of it as payment for doin' your chores."

Tom scoffed. "They're not _chores_ -"

"Yes, because we all so loved going to get the groceries," Jules commented drily.

Gene laughed. "I don't mind, though."

Jules rolled her eyes jovially at his insistence. "It's okay, Gene, you can say it's rotten work. We won't hold it against you."

Gene shook his head at her and glanced behind him through the kitchen window, taking one look at the darkening sky before turning back to them. "I should probably get goin'."

Jules nodded. "I'll see you out." With that, she hopped off of the counter and began to lead him from the kitchen.

"Don't be a stranger, now!" Tom called jokingly after them. Jules rolled her eyes through a small laugh.

"Like he has a choice," Will replied.

Jules could just imagine Tom shoving him. "Sarcasm, Will."

She led Gene through the living room and the porch, and opened the front door for him, which tended to be temperamental to the inexperienced hand. After he had stepped out onto the doorstep he turned back to her and smiled slightly.

"So," he began, chuckling softly. "Jules?"

She laughed, nodding. "Juliette, actually. Jules is a nickname."

"Juliette," he repeated, trying it out for size. Then he smiled in earnest, only the second full smile she'd ever seen from him. "You look like a Juliette. More than a Penny, anyway."

She laughed. "Thank you, I suppose." Then she shot him a grin. "You pronounced it right, by the way. The others all say it as 'Juliet', as in 'Romeo and'."

Gene nodded. "You're the French 'Juliette'."

"Funnily enough," she joked. Subsequently, she pressed her forefinger to her lips, miming a 'shh'. "Don't tell the others, though. They'll be devastated if they find out they've been pronouncing it wrong all this time."

Gene laughed. "Your secret is safe with me." Upon reflection, a lot of her secrets seemed to be that way.

He bid her goodbye after that, and she closed the door behind him. She headed straight back to the kitchen and shared one look with Will and Tom before they all burst out laughing.

Once their laughter had died down a little bit, Will shook his head. "We're gonna be in so much trouble." This only set them all off again.

It wasn't particularly funny, and definitely didn't warrant the amount of laughter it got, but it was nice to laugh properly, earnestly, for once. They had scarcely giggled together since Alex had been gone. Distantly, Jules wished that Martin was with them, but she shook the thought away. All she could do was hope that better days were coming, not just for her but for all of them.


	42. We are Half Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Compared to what we ought to be, we are half awake." - William James, Memories and Studies

It was via a telegram hidden in their front garden that they discovered Thomas had been promoted to the position of commanding officer. Juliette was incredibly pleased for him, and indeed he seemed very pleased with himself, and they all congratulated him warmly. Martin did seem a tad bit miffed that it hadn't been him, but it was common practise for one of the undercover specialists to be promoted to CO; the job required you to also take on the role of tactician, and the undercover specialists worked most frequently in the field and thus were most liable to be the more natural tacticians.

Jules did worry, though, upon reflection afterwards; with Alex gone that was now two of their COs who had been killed in action. She hoped that that was a coincidence and not a pattern. She tried to convince herself not to think about it too much.

True to Tom's prediction, they did get sent out again a few weeks after their initial conversation about the matter, though they were mostly stealth operations to begin with after their potential compromise in Paris. Eventually, though, they did start getting sent back out on normal jobs again - less blowing things up and more swapping intel or making sure Nazis 'misplaced' important documents.

Tensions amongst the team and the amount of missions they were sent on were directly proportional. There were gaps they were only gradually learning to fill, and with Tom now acting as their tactician and Juliette being the sole undercover agent, mistakes were made in the process of adjustment. It was in the heat of these arguments that Jules missed Alex more than ever. Alex, who had not always taken her side but who always made sure she was okay afterwards. Alex, who had made sure that whoever made the mistake didn't beat themselves up about it too much. Alex, who had been so good at his job that there were rarely any mistakes to argue about anyway.

She missed him terribly.

In early May, they found out through another subtly concealed telegram that the invasion of Normandy had had to be postponed; it was no longer due to take place on the thirty-first of May, but instead sometime in early June. Juliette wondered what the cause for concern had been amongst the key leaders of the operation, as they had known it was set for the end of May for months now. She hoped it wasn't anything to be too concerned about - specifically, that it hadn't been due to an information leak. The soldiers who were due to be doing the invading hadn't even been told about it yet, and if their tactic had already been compromised to the enemy there was little hope that postponing it for a few days would make much difference.

As a result of the postponement they were sent out even more frequently, continually trying to gull the Nazis into believing that Calais had been determined the place through which to invade - and, on occasion, they had been told to suggest that it would be Norway, though they hadn't actually been sent there, thank God.

It was upon their return from one just such mission - in which Jules had had to replace intercepted Allied intelligence with forged intel declaring their European target as Norway - that Martin had taken it upon himself to blame Thomas entirely for their near-miss. Indeed, Juliette had almost been compromised whilst swapping the intel because the timings Tom had predicted for when the Brigadeführer would be out of his office had been just slightly off.

"Next time why don't you check your recon better so that Jules isn't left hiding in a cupboard for forty-five minutes, yeah?" Martin accused, his voice getting louder with each word.

"It isn't his fault, Martin," Jules tried to defend. "People are liable to deviate from routines sometimes -"

"Stay out of this, Jules," Martin snapped at her.

She frowned. "Don't tell me to stay out of it." She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at the audacity of his words. "This concerns me just as much as it does him. Why aren't you accusing me of being too slow? It's not his fault."

"As our CO he needs to take responsibility -"

"Yes, and as our CO he's the one who analyses the situations and calculates who's at fault, not you."

"There's nothing to analyse! It's his fault and if he doesn't know that -"

"Please don't argue," Will mumbled, resting his head in his hands from his position on the sofa.

"I take full responsibility, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear? Can we leave it alone now, Martin?" Tom demanded from his position near the window, looking thoroughly exhausted.

Martin's scowl didn't falter. "Are you saying that to appease me, or because you recognise that it's true?" His eyes bore a challenge.

Will shifted in his seat, looking up at them all. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, of course it matters!" Martin shouted in exasperation.

Jules shot him a sharp glare. "Who do you think you are to raise your voice at everyone like that?"

"Who do you think you are to go around trying to protect people all the time? You constantly get yourself into situations where you have to be rescued, but you always try to play the hero. Stop pretending, Juliette!"

He'd hit a nerve there, and he knew it. One of Martin's greatest strengths in his job was knowing where people were weakest, and striking there with full force. Apparently, he could use this as an emotional weapon, too.

"Hey, that's enough!" Tom interjected. He took a step closer to where Jules and Martin stood as if preparing to physically intervene.

Martin turned on him. "So now you want to be the CO?"

Will stood up suddenly. "You know, you're not the only one who lost him, Martin." He paused, letting his words sink in, seemingly also mildly surprised at himself for having said them. "We all did," he added quietly, before sitting back down again.

"This isn't about Alex," Martin replied coldly.

"No," Juliette told him in turn, levelling him with her own icy glare, "it's about you and your vexation about not being picked for CO." She watched his scowl fall and heard him suck in a breath. She could hit nerves, too. "You know, you're the oldest on this team but sometimes I think it'd be rather nice if you could just grow up."

"Brave words coming from you," he retorted harshly.

She rolled her eyes. "And there's that characteristic maturity."

"He wouldn't want us to argue," Will muttered.

Martin tore his gaze from Juliette to look to him. "Why do you keep bringing him up?!"

"Because you keep acting like he was never here!" Will cried, jumping to his feet again.

"Maybe it's easier that way, Will," Tom mumbled, and Jules sighed.

Will shook his head. "Just because it's easier that doesn't make it right."

"Well, you can go on being so preoccupied with the past you forget you've still got a job to do, and you can go and get yourself killed for all I care. But don't drag us all down with you in the process," Martin told him coldly.

Jules gasped. "What a horrible thing to say!" she exclaimed, rounding on him once more.

"Face reality, Juliette!"

"Face how fucking vile you've let yourself become now that Alex isn't here to keep you in check," she told him, staring him boldly in the face before turning and leaving. Martin had said some nasty things in his time, but she'd never seen him be so cruel, especially to Will. He didn't deserve it.

She wished she could've been brave enough to stay down there and defend him, because Will hated conflict so much he was oftentimes too anxious about causing fights to stand up for himself. But she feared that she'd have said yet more things she might come to regret had she stayed. She had to resign herself to trusting that Tom would handle it.

Juliette wished, now more than ever, that she could leave that infernal house that had come to contain more bad memories than good ones. She wanted more than anything to go and find that field she used to sit in with Gene and just stare into the trees. She wanted to soak up the sunlight and pretend for a little while that that field was all there was to the world, that it was infinite.

Instead, she walked straight past her bedroom and decisively pushed open the door to what had once been Alex's room. She hadn't set a foot inside it since coming back, but she needed him, and this was the closest she could get.

Juliette shut the door behind her and crossed to the window, looking carefully at the view outside. She had never seen the view from his window before, but she'd seen him looking out of it many a time. It almost felt like he was with her, in that moment, as she gazed out at the fields and distant houses scattered about. He had looked at this same view everyday, once upon a time. She wondered what he had thought of it, what he had liked to look at the most. Was it the variation of houses dotted about the large expanses of land, or the daisies littering the fields like snow? Was it the expanse of trees crowded together as far as the eye could see to the left of her, huddled together as if they were sharing a secret, or the masses of sheep dwindling about to the right?

As she stood there, contemplating and theorising, she let her mind search through everything she could remember about him. There were so many small things she missed about him. How he would wander down the stairs half-awake well into the day and bid them good morning, even though it was already afternoon. How he would read a newspaper almost constantly and report back to them the things they needed to know, reading it all, even the boring parts, so that they didn't have to. How he would always, always, check on her when he knew she'd been having a rough time, but never force her to talk.

Most of all, she just missed hearing his thoughts. He didn't often offer them up without prompting, but whenever she asked he would willingly spill out his internal monologue to her. And hidden in amongst it was always something insightful, something beautiful. She longed so badly to hear him tell her what he loved the most about the view from his bedroom window that it was almost difficult to breathe.

She didn't dare to disturb his carefully set bed sheets, but she did settle herself into the chair that sat snugly against the wardrobe facing the bed. She simply stared into space for a while, sometimes pretending he was there and sometimes letting herself consciously feel his absence. Both things hurt just as much as each other, for there was an end to pretending he was there, and no end to knowing that he wasn't.


	43. Surprises are Foolish Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable." - Jane Austen, Emma

The four of them sat gathered in the living room, the light of early evening filtering in through the windows. All eyes were on Thomas as they anxiously awaited their next mission briefing. He stood in the centre of the room holding the envelope in his hands and looked between each of them individually before beginning to tear it open.

Juliette, Will, and Martin watched him closely, sitting there all scrunched together on the sofa with hardly a breath exhaled between them as they awaited their next deployment. When Tom's eyes widened upon reading the first page, they each of them glanced frantically to each other, stiffening up. Tom generally made the effort to be as stoic as possible when delivering these briefings, just like Alex had been, so for him to have made a visible reaction was worrying. Jules prayed that they weren't being sent back to Paris.

Tom raised his eyes from the first of the sheets of paper, his jaw having gone slack and his eyebrows raised skyward. He was silent for a few moments, his gaze flickering between the three of them, before he breathed out a small laugh.

"Our house arrest will no longer be necessary, it seems," is all he said. The trio on the sofa's eyebrows all furrowed simultaneously.

"What do you mean?" Will asked, and then Tom began to smile.

"Remember that invasion of Normandy?"

"Oh, you mean the one we've been trying to cover up for the past nine months?" Martin replied sarcastically.

Jules laughed lightly whilst Tom nodded, unbothered. "Yes, that's the one."

"What about it?" Jules prompted.

Tom laughed a little bit. "They want us to drop into Normandy alongside our beloved yanks."

"They want what?" Martin asked. Jules and Will had both been shocked into silence. Martin's jaw had dropped.

"They want us to parachute into Normandy with the paratroopers," Tom repeated, turning the sheet of paper around so that they could all verify that what he was saying was true. "The yanks don't know anything about it yet, of course, though they're all aware through gossip that they're due to be part of a big invasion of Europe. As we speak, however, they're all being shut into an airfield a ways away from here so that there's no information leaks. My guess is the intelligence officers are about to find out, at least."

"Has a day been decided on, then?" Jules wondered, referring to the invasion.

Tom nodded. "Fifth of June. The paratroops are due to find out on the third, in advance of the ground forces because they'll be the first to set foot in Normandy. Along with us, of course."

Will looked between Jules and Martin before turning his inquisitive gaze back on Thomas. "Why are we jumping with them? Why not just how we always do it?"

Tom smiled sheepishly. "Haven't gotten that far. Give me a sec." Then he read further down first the page, and even halfway down the second, before glancing back up at them again. "Mainly, it's good cover. We'll be hidden amongst them, so the Germans wont be heading towards parachutes with the specific interest of capturing spies. Obviously, this would be incredibly helpful for us in case of getting caught - we'll be taken in as prisoners of war instead of enemy agents. Not so helpful for you, Jules, but what can you do?"

Juliette shook her head at him, but a smile was threatening to reveal itself on her lips. "What's the job, Thomas? Or are they really that desperate for the manpower that they're sending us to invade too?"

To her credit, Will laughed at the joke, though Martin and Tom merely pulled faces at her. Tom carried on reading from the pack and then told them, "What isn't the job? They've got us doing basically everything they can imagine. We'll be cutting telephone lines, taking out radio frequencies, spying on German troop deployments to report back to Airborne intelligence, blowing up bridges and transport vehicles. Basically anything we can to hinder the Germans so the Americans can move in and link up."

"How thrilling," Jules commented, but in spite of her sarcastic tone, she was grinning. "When will the yanks find out about us?"

Martin laughed. "They're in for the shock of their lives."

Tom smirked. "I imagine Tab is going to be particularly horrified, considering he's attempted to use his 'I don't know what's going to happen out there and I'd love to have a girl to write to' speech on Jules not once but _twice_."

Juliette giggled riotously whilst Martin snorted. "This'll be fun, I think," she commented, smiling brightly. "We've never really gotten to do a big reveal before."

"What about Gene?" Will suggested.

Jules chuckled a little bit at the memory of how he'd found out. "Doesn't count, really, though it was a rather spectacular way to break the news. We didn't really _tell_ him though, he worked it out given the circumstances."

"Yeah, apart from when you lot all blabbed our bloody names to him," Martin added. Jules, Tom, and Will all began giggling like schoolchildren. As they had expected, Martin had been rather peeved when he'd first found out about their loose lips, but it was all water under the bridge now. As the guilty trio all giggled Jules even saw the makings of a grin pull at Martin's lips, which was how she knew they were really in the clear.

"It's not like he would've been talking to the other yanks about us anyway," Jules said with a shrug. "As far as they're concerned we've been gone since November. They probably think we're dead."

"Easter's about to come early," Tom commented with a smirk.

"Easter's already been," Will replied, confused.

"Really early for next year, then."

"Why Easter though?"

"Because Easter was when Jesus rose from the dead -"

"Tell me you're not comparing yourself to Jesus," Martin said, watching Thomas with a mixture of growing shock and horror. Tom only grinned. "Thomas."

"I'm not just comparing _myself_ to Jesus," he replied eventually, that grin still on his face. "I'm comparing all of us! Are you not grateful for such a shining comparison?"

"You're going to Hell, Thomas," Martin informed him, entirely straight-faced.

Tom grinned. "Hey, if I get there first I'll save you a seat at the cool kids' table."

"You're awful," Martin told him. Jules and Will were giggling.

"Jules? Will? Shall I save you some seats, too?" Tom continued, undeterred.

Jules snorted. "You can save me one, but I promise you our darling William is headed straight for Heaven." She ruffled Will's hair affectionately and he batted her hand away, though he was laughing as well.

"When _do_ the yanks find out about us, though?" Will inquired, trying to sober himself up. "You never actually said."

"Oh! I forgot." Thomas looked back at his booklet, his eyes flitting about the pages wildly as he tried to relocate the desired information. He hummed happily when he found it. "They're due to find out about the invasion on the third of June, as I said, and we'll be brought into their briefing room as soon as they've been told all of the necessary information. And they want us to tell them any information we have that might help them on the ground. So that should be fun!"

"I can't wait," Martin said in the most deadpan voice Juliette had ever heard. She burst into giggles once more, agreeing with his sentiments entirely. The last thing she wanted to do was lecture a group of Americans who, it was highly likely, would not be at all interested in what she had to say.

"It'll be fun," Tom brushed him away. "Didn't you ever play at being a teacher when you were little?"

Jules snorted. "Martin? I reckon he played at being a serial killer."

"What did you teach?" Will asked Tom.

"Maths."

"Me too!" Juliette exclaimed, and she shared a grin with him.

Martin scoffed good-naturedly. "Bloody code-breakers."

"I taught physics when I was little," Will chimed in.

Martin groaned. "You're all as bad as each other."


	44. Tell Us What You've Seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come back. Tell us what you've seen. Tell us you met a god so reckless, so lonely, it will love us all." - Traci Brimhall, Late Novena

On the third of June the team of four were let into the airfield, which had been firmly locked up for the previous four days. Their security clearance was higher than anyone who had been admitted previously, and the guards on duty had been told to expect them, so they were let in with little trouble.

The officers of Easy Company were due to be briefed first, and the team had been told to meet one Lewis Nixon in some room or other as he would be the one doing the briefing and thus introducing them. Jules thought that the name rang a bell, but she had met so many Americans during her time in Aldbourne it was difficult to discern whether she had actually met him or whether someone else simply had a similar name.

When they were let into the room he was in, recognition immediately dawned on her; he was one of the officers she had met when helping Gene with supplies that one time. The fun one, who had been all cheeky grins. She remembered liking him.

"You! I remember you!" Nixon exclaimed upon seeing them, pointing at Juliette with a short laugh. "You're a spy?"

Jules grinned. "Certainly seems that way."

Nixon laughed, shaking his head. "I knew there was something about you. Didn't know it was espionage, but I _knew_ there was something."

Tom took over, then, doing the formal introductions. He was required to tell Nixon their real first names (surnames were never allowed to be shared) and their specific areas of expertise, all the while the intelligence officer made note of what he was saying.

"Are the enlisted going to know what you're doing in Normandy?" Nixon asked about halfway into their meeting.

Thomas considered the question for a moment. Sometimes Jules thought that it took him longer to consider things because initially he forgot it was now his job to decide everything. Eventually, he replied, "Just tell them we'll be there helping to make their job easier. That's all they need to know."

Nixon nodded. "Alright." He, of course, had been told what they'd be doing when he was informed of their existence, but there was no need to spread it amongst the enlisted who were much more liable to leak information. Plus, it wasn't necessary that they were in the know on absolutely everything.

The officers of the company were surprised, to say the least, when Nixon's lecture on the invasion and their tactics turned to the team of spies who would be hidden in amongst them. Luck was on their side, however, in that Easy Company's previous commanding officer, who Alex had warned them about for how unpleasant he was said to be, had been transferred elsewhere. The man who was in charge now, Lieutenant Thomas Meehan, was a tad cautious about how to approach asking them anything, either because he was unsure how much he was allowed to know or merely suspicious of them in general, but was generally agreeable. This was much the same with the other officers, though many of them warmed up to them quickly.

Juliette caught sight of a toothy grin seemingly permanently etched onto the face of who she had been told was Harry Welsh, seeming to love the drama of it all, which made her inclined to like him. He sat close to the ginger man she had come across during her first meeting with Nixon, who she now knew as Richard Winters. Winters watched them carefully, though not unkindly.

Their presence in the meeting lasted for around forty-five minutes as a whole, mostly due to the fact that it was in the nature of the officers' jobs to know as much as they were permitted about what a team of spies was jumping into Normandy with them for. They were told about everything they were set to be doing but scarcely anything else: no surnames, no codenames, no previous missions to detail experience, and no details on their training. They were told in no uncertain terms by Thomas, who had had to adopt the stern, serious persona of the commanding officer they had always had in Alex, that they were to ask no questions beyond what directly affected them. When he asked if there were any questions at the end of his short briefing, wisely, they all remained silent.

Jules tried not to laugh. If they knew what Thomas was really like there was no way they would have been so easily silenced into submission, but in Juliette's experience if you slapped the label of 'spy' onto something people did tend to get a bit nervous.

It was a short while after this meeting that Nixon led them back to the small room he had been in when they first met him, which he now used as a sort of waiting area. He informed them that Meehan would be conducting the briefing of the enlisted, and that he himself would be waiting with them to see them in, to ensure the enlisted didn't play up if nothing else.

The five of them sat quietly and listened to the enlisted men of the company file into the makeshift lecture theatre. An unexpected nervousness began to buzz in Juliette's stomach that she hadn't experienced when waiting to be introduced to the officers, though she figured that was likely because she hadn't actually known any of the officers beforehand. In the next room over were dozens of men she had met, laughed with, and beaten at drinking games. Suddenly she was worried how they'd take to being told that they'd been lied to.

They would be well within their rights to be peeved, Juliette thought, which was a thought that hadn't crossed her mind prior to that moment. Would they be cold towards them? Indifferent after not having seen them for so long? Irritated that they were infiltrating their tight-knit company, even if it was against their will?

Jules fiddled mindlessly with the skirt of her dress, the pretty one with the cherries that she liked very much, chewing on her bottom lip as her mind raced with uncertainty. The one thing that set her mind at ease was that Gene already knew, so at least that was one person who wouldn't hate her. And hadn't Gene still been willing to be her friend, even after having been lied to?

_But Gene's different,_ she thought immediately with a dismissive shake of her head, _he's a saint among men._ And thus her mind was set back on its course of anxious self-destruction, peeling back her confidence bit by bit.

That was, until Martin gave her a firm pat on the back, and offered her a small smile. "You alright there, Jules? Look like you've got steam coming out of your ears you're thinking so hard."

Jules laughed a little bit, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Just wondering how they'll react, is all. We _have_ been lying to them for months, after all."

Nixon, who had obviously been eavesdropping, was unashamed enough to cut in. "They'll be fine," he told her unconcernedly, batting her worries away with a simple grin. "You've got a pretty good excuse."

To his credit, this did make Juliette giggle to herself. She glanced to her right and made eye contact with Thomas, who also seemed a bit pale with worry, but he would be the one having to take over from Meehan to deliver the briefing on what the enlisted were and were not allowed to know. That was a rotten job, and she was certainly glad it wasn't her having to do it.

Will was fiddling with a radio he'd found, and Jules thought that if it had been any other officer who had been chosen to wait with them he probably would have been reprimanded. Nixon didn't seem to care, though, and instead lounged back in his seat and watched him idly, sipping from his flask every now and then. Jules didn't even want to know what was in it.

After having had to sit through the entirety of Nixon's lecture to the officers about the invasion, Jules had a decent idea of what their cue would be to start getting ready for their grand guest appearance. When that cue was hit, she stiffened in her chair.

Martin gave her another pat on the back before jumping to his feet. Jules followed suit and sent him a grateful smile before falling into line behind Thomas.

Nixon was at the front, set to lead them in, with Thomas leading Jules, Will, and finally Martin at the back.

Meehan was in the midst of explaining the presence of spies in amongst their jump into Normandy when Jules risked a glance back at William behind her. Will wore a nervous smile and had an anxious buzz of energy around him. 

"Everything's about to change," he told her quietly, and she smiled slightly.

She shrugged. "It's not everyday you get to meet an entire group of people again."

She shared one last smile with Will, nodding to Martin standing behind him before turning back to face the front. Nerves whirled around in her stomach as Tom turned back and gave them all a nod. He caught Juliette's hand and gave it a squeeze before turning back to Nixon.

The intelligence officer was facing them now, and he wore a small grin. "Ready?"

Jules tried to exhale her nerves. It was now or never.

Tom gave him a nod. "Lead the way."

-

END OF BOOK ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See next chapter for sequel details!!! <3


	45. BOOK 2

So you've reached the end! Congratulations, because it's been so much longer than I expected. Also, thank you so much for sticking with me! It really means a lot.

Book 2 is already up and I've posted the first two chapters - you can find it on my profile. It's entitled 'Half Sick of Shadows' (remember Chapter 1? No? Me neither.) In my opinion it is infinitely superior to Book 1, so I really hope you'll give it a try. Jules' story still has a lot left to go and I'm really excited about it, so I hope you are too.

Thank you, once again, for reading this far. I hope you've found it at least somewhat enjoyable. And, if you're willing, I'll see you in Book 2. Thank you!


End file.
